What is in a Soul
by KySinne
Summary: Harry’s world is turned upside down as everything he knows is torn away from him. Golems, Time travel, Soul magic.
1. The Discovery

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I make no money from this. I borrow the concept for this story from the wonderfully talented BajaB, and the author who came up with it first: Rorschach's Blot. I hope they don't mind.

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**War of Souls**

Excerpt from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince:_ But he understood at last what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew — and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents — that there was all the difference in the world._

Harry felt filled with resolve; his destiny had never seemed more clear, he'd proved to Dumbledore and himself that he could succeed at the tasks set him and Dumbledore was finally starting to treat him as an adult. He smiled at Dumbledore. "I understand sir," he said simply.

Dumbledore smiled back wearily, the animation produced by Harry's success already draining away. "Off to bed, Harry" he said. "And do be sure to wear your cloak" he added, tired blue eyes twinkling slightly. "It wouldn't do to get caught out of bed at this hour."

Harry grinned, half in embarrassment as he recalled his midnight dash through the corridors. "Yes Professor" he said as he put his cloak on. "Goodnight".

"Goodnight Harry, pleasant dreams." replied Dumbledore. Harry started down the winding stairs but he'd only gone a few steps when a silvery patronus streaked past him. He stopped dead. Harry could have sworn that was prongs, his own patronus.

He turned to look back at Dumbledore's study; the door was still open. Perhaps someone else had the same patronus as he did? He hesitated for a second; then taking care to be absolutely silent he wrapped the cloak tight around himself and made sure the hood covered him completely. Then he crept up to the door. He could see both Dumbledore and the stag patronus but it had already delivered its message. Harry had no time to feel disappointed however; he was too struck by Dumbledore's reaction. Dumbledore stood absolutely still, a look of total shock on his face. A feeling of foreboding came over Harry. Anything that could affect Dumbledore like this had to be something big. Perhaps something had gone badly wrong with the battle against Voldemort. He couldn't imagine anything else that could cause such a reaction. He glanced at the stag patronus that looked so like his but it stood silent, its message delivered. He looked back as Dumbledore finally started to move. His wand was raised and Harry could see it tremble.

Harry swallowed, his own shock increasing. _What on earth could have happened_, he wandered to himself silently. He continued to watch as Dumbledore dismissed the stag and summoned his own phoenix patronus. The message he sent was short. "Stay where you are. I will come to collect you shortly".

As soon as the patronus flew off Dumbledore strode over to the fireplace and grabbed a pinch of flue powder from it's container on the mantelpiece. "The hog's head" he said in a clear voice and disapeared into the flames as soon as they turned green. He hadn't even noticed the door to his office was still open.

Harry wrestled with his conscience; he'd already invaded Dumbledore's privacy, to do so again would be a betrayal of trust. After all, Dumbledore _had_ promised to keep him informed from now on and less than an hour ago he'd agreed to include Harry more actively in any activities against Voldemort. But still Harry couldn't make himself believe that Dumbledore really would tell him everything. Dumbledore would only tell him what he decided Harry needed to know. And Harry just couldn't shake the feeling that whatever was happening had something to do with him.

Just then the flames in the fireplace flared green again and there was no more time for thinking. Without conscious thought, his hand darted into his pocket and pulled out the tiny bottle of Felix Felicis. He took a quick sip, then was through the door and crouched by one of Dumbledore's display cabinets before the exhilarating sense of absolute confidence he now associated with the luck potion rolled over him.

He made sure not to look at Dumbledore when he stepped through. Something warned him that Dumbledore would know. _Maybe it's something to do with legilmancy. _ The thought drifted through his head. Then two other people came through, a man and a woman holding a baby in her arms.

Harry frowned, he felt as if he should recognise them. He focused on their features, peering through the invisibility cloak. Harry felt the hammer blow of shock even through the Felix. His heart seemed to stop moving and for several endless moments he was unable to breathe. His eyes clung to the couple; a spectacled man with messy black hair, his arm around a beautiful red haired woman with green eyes. The sleeping baby in her arms had hair as black and messy as the man by her side. Harry knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that if the baby's eyes were to open, they would be the same bright green as the woman holding him. The same bright green as his own eyes. For Harry recognised the little family. How could he not, with all the hours spent pouring through their pictures in his little family album? He was looking at James and Lilly Potter, looking no older than in the pictures taken in their last days, along with the baby Harry Potter before he had been marked by the lightning bolt scar.

Harry could feel the maelstrom of shock going through him changing slowly to a freezing anger. _How_ _dare they_, he found himself thinking. How _dare_ they? What kind of sick, evil people would do something like this. He seethed. He continued to stay hidden in his cloak, but he promised himself he would make these imposters pay for their sick jokes. Was this supposed to be some kind of strange prank? It was not funny in any way. Why was Dumbledore even talking to them? Harry couldn't wrap his head around the situation at all.

Dumbledore was just standing there, his wand in his hand, watching them with a wary look on his face. They stared back, awkwardly. It was the Lily look-alike who broke the silence first. "Headmaster," she said hesitantly. Dumbledore held up his hand and she broke off. "My dear," he began, "I do apologise for any discourtesy but I'm afraid these dark days leave us little choice. I need both of you to swear a Wizard's Oath confirming your identity".

Harry leaned forward, confident that the imposters were about to be unmasked. He wandered briefly if a 'wizard's oath' was anything like the unbreakable one. The imposters were looking at each other now, worried looks on their faces. _Good!_ He thought in vicious satisfaction. _You'd better be worried. _Had they really thought they were going to get away with whatever game they were playing?

Then the man raised his wand and Harry's world came crashing down. "I swear on my magic and my blood that I am James Harold Potter." A blue glow surrounded him for a moment, then faded away. "I swear on my magic and my blood that I am Lily Evans Potter" A blue glow surrounded the woman too.

Harry could not move. He felt as if he was frozen in place and a vast echoing silence seemed to have invaded his head. If it were not for the fact that he was still under the influence of the felix he would have lost consciousness, the severity of his shock was so great. He could feel himself becoming numb; his emotions shutting down to protect him against further shocks.

Dumbledore actually staggered back for a moment, then he drew himself up and walked slowly over to the chair behind his desk. He seated himself and gestured for his guests to sit down. They sat down, but James Potter could not contain himself any longer. "Professor, what on earth is going on?!" he burst out as soon as he was seated. "Why does everything look so..." "Mr Potter, interrupted Dumbledore, a grim look on his face. "I think perhaps you have far more information on what is going on than myself. I would be most interested to know for instance, how you could possibly be alive, given the fact that you are both supposed to be dead."

"Dead!" exclaimed Lily.

'Yes. I saw your bodies and attended your funerals....more than 15 years ago. "15 years?" whispered James. James and Lily Potter looked at each other, shocked looks on their faces, but the shock faded fast, replaced by looks of horrified realization. Dumbledore noticed. "I cannot help but think you know what is going on."

Lily straightened in her seat, taking care not to wake the sleeping baby. "It's something we did, a back-up plan in case something went wrong and our secret-keeper was discovered", she looked at Dumbledore, a look of pain on her face. "We didn't _really_ expect the fidelus to be broken; but I was afraid. Everyone knows who our friends are, although we didn't choose who everyone thought we would."

"Sirius's idea", put in James. "He thought it would be better if we switched to Peter instead and play decoy himself. No one was supposed to know Peter was the real secret-keeper".

"But someone obviously guessed," said Lily.

She looked at Dumbledore, her face pained. "We never wanted to put our friends in such danger; we really thought Peter would be safe".

James took his wife's hand in his and squeezed it. "Voldemort must have captured him and tortured the secret out of him." He said in a bleak voice. "The wards fell and we were forced to use our back up plan."

Dumbledore said nothing. Harry, still frozen in his corner, could only feel a sense of far-off rage beneath his numbness. There were several moments of silence before Lily broke it. She shook her head. "Despite everything, I really didn't think we would ever be forced to use our back up plan" she said.

Dumbledore frowned. "And what was this plan?" He asked.

"A way to keep Harry safe" replied Lily. "The year I worked at the department of mystery there was a big case involving the use of simulacra and golems. I didn't know all the details but I found out enough about how the golems worked to be able to build one myself."

A terrible premonition hovered at the edges of Harry's mind.

Lily stroked the baby's hair gently. She kept her eyes on him as she continued talking. "It took me a long time but I was finally able to create a flesh and blood golem. I used a variation of the spell used to make portraits to make them behave as much like us as possible. It was enough to fool the average wizard into thinking it to be a real person."

She looked up and smiled. There was no humour in it. "But we all know Voldemort is not a normal wizard. So we had to come up with something that would be able to fool anyone, no matter who, even you professor". She nodded to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore seemed almost afraid. "What did you do? He asked quietly.

Lily answered with a question. "How much do you know about Horcruxes, Professor?" she asked.

Harry's mouth dropped open in shocked disbelief. He could _not_ have heard what he just thought he did.

Dumbledore was on his feet, his wand raised, a terrible expression of wrath on his face. "What have you done?" he cried. James jumped to his feet and stepped in front of Lily and the baby. "We didn't make one, Professor" he shouted. "How could you think that?!"

Dumbledore stayed as he was for a moment, then collapsed back on his chair. He raised a shaking hand to cover his face. James sat back down, and took hold of Lily's hand again. They watched the Headmaster with wary eyes. The baby slept on, undisturbed by all the commotion. Still in his corner, Harry felt as if he were trapped in a never ending nightmare. He could do nothing but observe as everything he'd ever known was turned on it's head.

The study was silent for a few minutes, as it's occupants tried to regain their composure. The portraits on the wall watched silently.

Finally, Dumbledore stirred. He looked bowed down; as if someone had added another load to an already unbearable burden.

"What did you do?" he repeated his earlier question.

"I modified the spell used to make a horcrux," replied Lily. "Voldemort would have known at once that the golem's were not real people, we needed something that could fool him.

Dumbledore was listening carefully. "How did you manage to make the spell work without a sacrifice?" he asked. "The sacrifice _is_ the whole foundation it is built upon after all."

Lily leaned forward, her face becoming more animated. "True," she nodded. "But that is because a horcrux is designed to last forever. We only needed something that would last for long enough to fool Voldemort."

"Just long enough for him to think he'd killed us" added James, grinning for the first time. Dumbledore wrinkled his brow in puzzlement, "I still don't see what –

"We sacrificed a year of our lives for each golem." Lily broke in. Dumbledore's eyes widened.

James looked at him defiantly. "We decided it would be worth it if it saved our lives, Professor," he said. "At first we were only going to do it for Harry, but then we decided it would be stupid to leave him orphaned when we could make golems for all of us with only a little bit more effort."

Lily leaned forward, her expression earnest. "We used the smallest possible amount professor," she said. "We made sure it would not harm us. We even set it up so that as soon as the physical shells of our golems died, the bits of our soul would find us automatically." She grimaced. "That bit hasn't worked out unfortunately, but I think that can be explained by our time travel; when the separated pieces of our souls couldn't find us, they must have passed on."

"I see," said Dumbledore. He gazed at them gravely for a moment, before frowning suddenly. "Time-travel?" he said in a questioning voice.

"Ah – I'm afraid that was my fault Professor, said James. "We obviously didn't mean to get stuck in the time vortex, which must be what happened to us, though I don't know how." He frowned, then shrugged. "Anyway I thought that if Voldemort ever did discover us, he would probably ward the whole area against traditional means of travel, so we needed something that he wouldn't anticipate." He looked at Lily.

"I called in a favour from an old colleague," she said. "He let me borrow the time-turner unofficially." She frowned. "We set it up in advance to go back for one day, we thought that would give us enough time to set up another hiding space, and one day is short enough it wouldn't have set off the alarms at the TTC." She shuddered. "Good think we did, we barely managed to escape, Voldemort was already inside the house by the time we managed to activate the time-turner."

Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps it was the backlash of the golem's death," he speculated. "If you activated the time-turner at the same time as James's golem's death, perhaps the freed piece of your soul tried to return to you. I imagine that putting two such strong forces as time and soul magic would have been enough to throw you off course." He shook his head. "You are extremely lucky the time vortex did not collapse on you completely."

James and Lily shivered and drew closer together. They didn't look like they wanted to think about what a narrow escape they'd had.

"Tell me about golem you made of Harry", requested Dumbledore abruptly. "Was it any different from yours?"

Lily shook her head. "No Professor, it was exactly the same. The only thing different is that I provided the sacrifice for Harry". James scowled as she said this. Lily gave him an exasperated look.

Dumbledore had an intent look on his face. "You provided the sacrifice", he repeated. "How?"

"I used an old spell called 'Mother's Love'. Mothers in the old days used it to the take the pain or illness of their child onto themselves when nothing else would work. I was able to use the spell to make the ritual take the sacrifice from me instead of Harry."

"I see" breathed Dumbledore.

James and Lily looked at each other warily. "Is there something wrong Professor?" asked James.

Dumbledore took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. He didn't say anything for several minutes, in which James and Lily started to look more and more alarmed.

"Yes," he said finally, his voice grave. "I'm afraid there is indeed something wrong. You have, with the best of intentions, done something I'm afraid will have severe repercussions for everyone involved."

James sat up straight, his expression a mixture of confusion and alarm. Lily's face showed the same mix of emotions. Dumbledore put up his hand before either could speak. "Let me finish", he said.

"You created a golem out of the flesh and blood of your son, and imbued it with a portion of his soul, however small. You did it for the best of reasons and if your plan had worked as you envisioned it all might have been well."

James and Lily exchanged worried glances. Lily made as if to speak, but Dumbledore did not pause. "I speak only of the golem you made of Harry because the other two you made functioned precisely as you intended. We cannot know for certain if what happened occurred as a result of the golem's difference, but it is the most likely reason."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, his expression grim.

When he continued, his voice was even grimmer than his face. "15 years ago, Voldemort attacked your family. We know that James was killed first." James stirred in protest but Dumbledore shook his head. "I am telling you what happened that night as the world knows it," he said.

"We know also that Voldemort offered to spare Lily if she stood aside". Here, he glanced at James and Lily. They were extremely pale. "Lily refused," he went on more gently.

"Of course she did," put in James, a look of mingled sadness and pride on his face.

Dumbledore nodded. "Voldemort killed her, then turned to Harry. He cast the Avada Kedavra at him, fully expecting it to work, the same as it had always done. Except that it didn't. Not this time. For Voldemort had reckoned without the power of love. Lily Potter sacrificed herself for the sake of her son and in doing so she created a protection for her son that was so strong it overcame the Avada Kedavra itself.

James and Lily had been listening to all this, first with looks of horror on their faces, for it was obvious they were expecting to be told of the baby golem's death, and equally obvious they were picturing their real baby in that same dire situation if they hadn't come up with their back-up plan.

The looks turned to puzzlement as Dumbledore went on, so that as soon as he stopped speaking, Lily burst out incredulously: "Are you saying that the baby golem survived the Avada Kedavra?!"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, "he survived, with only a single scar to show for it, a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt marked on his forehead."

"Marked," repeated James slowly, a strange look on his face. Dumbledore just nodded, and carried on his tale.

"The Avada Kedavra curse rebounded back on Voldemort and destroyed his physical body. He was left a powerless wraith and fled."

James and Lily were too shocked to speak, they listened with gaping mouths as Dumbledore carried on. "Harry Potter was named the 'Boy-Who-Lived' and was celebrated as the vanquisher of the Dark Lord Voldemort."

"The 'Boy-Who-Lived'?" repeated Lily. She scowled. "That was quite a cruel title to give him, considering he must have died within hours."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Harry Potter did not die. He lived, and he is still alive today."

Silence. No one moved. No one spoke. James and Lily stared at Dumbledore, uncomprehending. At last, a shaken looking Lily spoke. "How is that possible?" She asked in a whisper.

Dumbledore sighed. "If you are asking how he survived the death curse, it is as I have already told you. For the Lily Potter who sacrificed herself, golem or no, was still made of flesh and blood and carried within her all the memories and emotions of the real Lily Potter, along with a piece of her soul. She sacrificed herself for the son she loved, and in doing so, provided a protection for her son from her killer, the Dark Lord Voldemort, that still exists to this day."

James looked up. He had the same strange look on his face as before. "And how is he still alive all these years later Professor?" He asked.

Dumbledore's eyes closed. He looked as if he'd aged a hundred years in the span of a minute. It was obvious he did not want to answer the question. It was as if, by keeping quiet, he sought to escape whatever it was that so horrified him. But James was relentless. "Professor?" he repeated, voice respectful but with a demanding tone.

Dumbledore spoke with his eyes still closed. "What you seek to know can only bring you pain," he said.

"Professor", it was Lily who spoke this time. "I think knowing the truth will be better that whatever our minds will come up with."

Dumbledore opened his eyes. "Very well." His voice showed extreme reluctance.

"I had never thought of Harry as anything but the real Harry Potter, for I had no reason to think him anything else. It was quiet obvious however, that there was something very strange about the scar he recieved as the result of Voldemort's attack. I carried out many studies on it and it was with great sorrow that I finally found out what it was."

He looked at James and Lily, his sorrow plain upon his face. "The night Voldemort came to kill your family, he intended to make a horcrux out of Harry's death."

Lily jolted upright, her face going chalk white. James face went very still. Dumbledore carried on talking. "Things did not go as he planned of course but I believe that when he tried to killed Harry and the spell rebounded on him, it tore loose a piece of his soul, which then attached itself to Harry, the only living being in the area."

James looked as if he were going to be sick. "And that is why he is still alive? Because of Voldemort's soul in his body?"

Dumbledore looked at him, a fierce expression on his face. "There is no denying that the soul originally belonged to Voldemort but Harry has made it his own. Voldemort does not control him."

Lily spoke up suddenly, fear and anger obvious on her face. "You speak of the golem as if he is Harry." She gestured violently at the sleeping baby in her arms. "This is Harry!"

Dumbledore looked at her with eyes full of compassion. "I know Lily", he said gently. "You have a wonderful son, more remarkable than you know. The tiny part of his soul you gave to the golem was enough to conquer Voldemort's horcrux and make it his own and that combined soul has grown up to be a most remarkable young man, one it has been my privilege to know and one who has, more than once, stood against Voldemort himself and triumphed."

Lily looked at the baby in her lap, her face filled with many conflicting emotions. James hugged her to him gently. He looked back at Dumbledore. "He grew up as a normal child?," he asked.

Dumbledore nodded.

"15 years – he must be nearly 17" said James.

"He is," replied Dumbledore. "He is in 6th year, a Gryffindor. Captain of the quidditch team."

James looked proud for a second, and then he blinked. "I don't know what to feel", he said.

Dumbledore looked at him, his sympathy plain on his face. "The hour is getting very late, and there are many more things the two of you should know. I think perhaps we should go to sleep and continue this conversation on the morrow."

He stood up, his movements slow. "I will arrange a safe place for you to stay for now." He started to walk to the fireplace, but Lily's soft voice bought him up short. "Professor, she said, her voice troubled, "I know you said... she stopped and swallowed, then took a deep breath and started again, her voice stronger. "I know you said the other Harry has become a normal child, and that his soul is his own now, but that doesn't change the fact that he is a horcrux, does it?," she asked.

Dumbledore stopped. "Ah Lily, you do ask the most painful of questions," he said softly.

"Wait. What does that mean?" asked James warily, though his eyes said he already suspected.

"It means – It means –," Lily could not finish the sentence.

"It means that while Harry lives, Voldemort cannot die", said Dumbledore quietly.

No one said anything for several moments, each trapped in their own tormented thoughts.

At last Dumbledore resumed his interrupted walk to the fireplace. He took a pinch of flue powder from the container on the mantel place, the fire flared green, and he was gone.

James and Lily sat silently in their seats, their expressions exhausted. "We need to get Harry settled down in to a proper sleep," said Lily after a while. "I don't like using the sleep charm for too long."

James nodded. "James?" Lily spoke again, her voice soft. James turned around to face her fully. "Yes, Lily?" he said, his voice concerned.

"Oh James," there were tears in Lily's eyes. "Lily - ," James said again, softly.

"James," she interrupted him, "you realise Dumbledore knew about the horcrux in Harry from the beginning don't you? You know what that means."

"Lily, the horcrux is not in Harry-"

"James," she fixed him with a long look.

"I know what it means, Lily," he said at last, his voice grim. "We'll talk about it later". She nodded.

Harry, who had remained seated in his corner throughout that whole horrifying conversation might as well have been a statue for all that he moved. His mind had not gone numb as before. He was totally aware. It was his emotions that were numb, so totally suppressed nothing he heard affected him, not even the most horrifying details. He listened as if to a story, something totally unconnected him, as interesting and as horrible as a horror story told at bedtime. He listened calmly, even as every word, every look, every inflection was recorded in his mind. Perhaps it was his mind's way of protecting itself.

The fire flared green again, and Harry turned to look, his face still filled with that unnatural calmness. James and Lily stood up, and from the corner of his eye he glimpsed a glint of gold from their direction. He turned his head to look at them. The glint game again, this time he could see it came from Lily's pocket.

Harry did not think, he simply slipped his wand out of his pocket and silently accioed the glinting object to himself. It zoomed towards him silently. No one noticed; all eyes were on Dumbledore as he stepped through the fireplace.

Almost at the same instant there came a knock upon the door. Dumbledore frowned, startled. James and Lily looked at him, alarmed looks on their faces. "A moment please," he called out after a moment. He took a piece of paper from his pocket and gave it to them. "Memorise this, quickly," he said hurriedly. "Do you have it?" he asked after several moments. He barely waited for their nod before he got another pinch of flue powder and tossed it into the fire. "I will come and talk to you in the morning," he told them.

Harry did not wait for them to leave. Instead he made his way to the door and stood beside it, waiting. The whoosh of the fire signalled the Potters departure.

"Enter" Dumbledore called out. The door opened. It was Snape. Harry did not bother to find out what he wanted. He walked out as soon as Snape entered, before he had a chance to close the door. Snape did not notice, his face was already turned to Dumbledore.

The gargoyle was already sliding back into place, but Harry managed to squeeze through before it closed completely. Harry did not go to his dorm room. In fact Harry had no idea where he was going. He simply walked, letting his subconscious lead him where it would, the same as he'd been doing for the last hour.

Suddenly, a door appeared in front of him. Harry stopped, only then looking around. It was the Room of Requirement. He frowned faintly, a vague sense of curiosity touching him. It was the first thing he'd felt since his emotions shutdown. At the reminder, his emotions retreated again. He was not ready to confront that yet.

He opened the door. It opened to a room he had never seen before. A rush of amazement filled him, breaking through the barrier on his emotions. The room was massive with a ceiling too high to make out and high windows sent shafts of light everywhere. It looked like a city, a city made of thousands and thousands of objects. Broken furniture, brand new wizarding toys, books and jewels. Priceless items and useless rubbish. They were all there, mixed together carelessly. This was no planned storage area. At the very edge of the door, there lay several empty sherry bottles. A vague memory stirred, of Trelawney trying to hide her bottles from the other professors.

He knew the purpose of this room now. But why would his subconscious, or the felix, whatever, want this room? He wondered for a moment if he was supposed to hide here, but it didn't look like a place to hide people, only things. That thought snagged at him for a moment before he pushed it away ruthlessly.

He wandered around the stacks for a few minutes, before he found himself standing in front of a cabinet. He recognised it; it was the broken Vanishing Cabinet in which Montague had got lost the year before. He stared at it for a few seconds, wondering why he'd stopped. There was nothing interesting about this cabinet. He was about to move on, when it suddenly hit him. He _knew_ this cabinet. He had seen it before, many years ago and not in Hogwarts. Suddenly, he was reminded of the conversation between Malfoy and Burgin he, Ron and Hermione had spied on so many months before.

He couldn't think of any reason for Malfoy to want this cabinet fixed, or the connection between this cabinet and the one in Borgin and Burkes but it was obviously something Malfoy wanted badly for him to spend so much time and energy on trying to fix. Perhaps he was jumping to conclusions, but Malfoy had been spending an awful lot of time in the RoM and the cabinets were the only thing he had seen that even hinted at a connection with whatever Malfoy was upto. Anyway, no one was going to miss this cabinet if he was wrong, and if he was right... Anything that Malfoy wanted this badly was obviously not a good thing.

He raised his wand. "_Reducto,_" he focused hard, careful to put only enough strength into the spell to break the cupboard. The cabinet exploded into hundreds of tiny pieces that flew in all directions. His hastily bought up _protego _shielded him from the ricochet.

He backed away from the mess and looked around. There was a bunch of chests stacked on top of each other nearby, almost making an entire wall. He floated one down. It was dusty and dirty, but it was sturdy enough. He sat down, suddenly overcome with weariness. It had been a long day, and the night seemed even longer, though it was not over yet.

He flicked his wand lazily. "_Tempus_". He frowned. Only a quarter past two. It had already been midnight when he'd gone up to Dumbledore's office. It seemed impossible that less than two hours had passed since his life had been turned upside down.

His mind shied away from that thought. He couldn't bring himself to think about that yet. Instead, his mind turned to the Felix. He could not feel its presence now. He frowned, wondering why it had felt so different the second time he'd taken it. In the beginning it had felt the same, but it had soon changed. Perhaps his shock had been so great it had overpowered some of the affects of the Felix?

He grimaced, pushing that thought away. Who would have thought clearing your mind would be so easy. You just had to have enough motivation. Harry was determined not to think about anything until he was good and ready. The way he felt right now, that would probably be never, but hey, who was going to make him?

He transferred his wand to his left hand, and then stuck his right hand in his pocket to pull out the tiny bottle of Felix. He found the Felix, but there was something else in his pocket as well. He left the Felix in his pocket and pulled out the other item instead.

He stared at the item in his hand, his eyes going wider, and wider. It was the golden item he'd summoned from Lily Potter's pocket. His mind automatically suppressed the wave of emotion that came with that name before he even noticed it.

He'd seen item's like the one he was holding before. Most recently, in the DoM. Where, apparently he and his friends had managed to destroy the ministry's entire stock. In his hand was a time-turner. Tiny and golden, it looked far more complicated than the only one he'd actually used. It had no chain, and there was a tiny, upwards facing clock set into the top of the hour-glass. There were three knobs set into the side of the clock, all in a line. The clock face looked almost normal; all the numbers were clearly displayed. The only thing strange about the clock face was the three concentric circles engraved on it that bisected the numbers.

There was a thin line leading from each of the circles to one of the knobs. He looked at the knobs more closely; he hadn't noticed before, but there was a tiny engraving on each knob. It was difficult to make out, but after a few minutes of studying it, he managed to identify each engraving. The first knob had an engraving of an hour-glass. It led to the smallest circle. The second knob had an engraving of a sun; it led to the middle circle. The last knob had an engraving of a full moon; it led to the biggest circle.

He traced the hour-glass engraving. It seemed quiet self-evident what that one stood for. He turned his attention to the other two. The moon was a pretty common symbol for a month, although the thought that with a single turning of a knob he could be a whole month in the past seemed mind-boggling. The one in the middle was less clear. It could mean a year, but the fact that it was between the hour-glass and the moon suggested it might stand for a day.

It really was nothing like Hermione's one from third year. It made sense. This was a time-turner used by the unspeakable, they would definitely have something more powerful than the one used by the students. Hagrid had implied earlier that it was common for high-achieving students to be allowed time-turners for extra study.

Harry spun the time-turned in his hand as he thought. He hadn't planned on nicking the time-turner, he hadn't even known what it was he was summoning, though he must have guessed, in some corner of his mind.

After all, it was quiet clear he would need quite a lot of time to sort himself out. Harry swallowed, nausea rising. He really didn't want to face the elephant in his mind, especially since he'd been avoiding it so successfully. But he would have to. The wizarding world being what it was, the Daily Prophet was bound to have the news of what had happened any day now. They were never going to leave him alone.

Harry stared at his hand, his expression bleak. He could guess what their reaction would be. They were going to rip him apart. It would make the events of his fourth and fifth year seem like a picnic. He had known for years how quickly public opinion changed. Today he was 'the chosen one', the one who was going to save them from Voldemort. As soon as they found out he would be another Voldemort in their eyes. Except they would probably make him out to be worse than Voldemort. Voldemort was a real person at least, and had never deceived them by pretending to be anything other than a Dark Lord.

Harry gradually became aware that he was laughing, a harsh and crazed sounding laugh. He cut himself off as soon as he noticed. He didn't have time to go mad.

He made his way to the door and let himself out quietly. He stepped back from the door, then holding the time-turner firmly by the hand, he turned the sun-knob once. He spared a second to hope that the time-turner had not been damaged in the 15 years it spent in the time vortex then he was in the vortex himself, spinning and turning, going faster and faster in a rush of colour and sound. Then it stopped. He was standing in the exact same space as before. Everything looked exactly the same as before, except that that there was no door there now. He started walking up and down thinking about what he would need: a place to rest and sleep, where no one and nothing could find him. He made the third turn and watched as the new room came into being. A plain brown door, sturdy but drab appeared. He opened it and stepped through, closing the door firmly behind him.

He was standing in a mid-sized room; it reminded him a little of the room in the Leaky Cauldron where he'd once stayed. A very big bed took up almost an entire wall, it was piled high with pillows, and a deep red quilt was spread over it. The walls were painted a pale, soothing gold, the carpet was cream coloured and was so comfortable he just stood there for a few minutes, luxuriating in the feel. The wall opposite the bed was taken up by a cheerfully crackling fire. There was scattered furniture in the room, but Harry was too tired to take notice of it.

The only thing he noticed was a covered goblet standing on the bedside cabinet; it seemed out of place in the room. He shrugged and walked to the bed. He flopped down gracelessly, toeing of his shoes and shrugging out of his cloak at the same time. He was too tired to do anything else. He shoved most of the pillows of the bed and wrapped himself up in the quilt.

After a few moments he groaned and sat up. His head was whirling way too much to let him sleep. His attention was drawn to the covered goblet. He picked it up and uncovered it. There was a purple covered potion in the goblet, Harry recognised it at once. It was dreamless sleep, a most useful potion that had helped him more than one.

Apparently his subconscious had known he would need one. He drained the goblet and collapsed back to the bed. He was asleep before he knew it.

* * *

AN: I've never written a fanfiction story before, I wrote this partly because it's been stuck in my head for ages and partly to teach myself patience, so I wouldn't think evil thoughts about why my favourite authors haven't updated already. I have the entire story in my head, if I figure out how to get it on paper, I'll update. If anyone wants to read this besides me, you are most welcome :)


	2. The Decision

Harry Potter woke up feeling refreshed and rested and extremely relaxed. He kept his eyes closed and stretched lazily. His bed had never felt more comfortable. He felt calm and peaceful; as if all was right with his life. He frowned thoughtfully. There seemed to be something wrong with that reaction, but he was too relaxed to care.

Hunger gradually overcame his desire to stay in bed as long as possible. He opened his eyes and sat up. He recognised the room he was in straight away, although he had not really noticed much beside the bed when he'd first seen it. There were no flames in the fireplace now, and a window had appeared in one of the other walls, letting in a pale wash of sunlight. A golden brown wardrobe stood against one wall, a matching writing desk beside it.

He swung his legs out of the bed and looked around. He saw his wand and the time-turner on the bed side table. He didn't remember putting them there. He grimaced at himself and picked up his wand, slipping it into his pocket. That had been careless of him, even if he hadn't been in any condition to think clearly last night. His cloak was on the floor by his feet.

He picked up the cloak and tossed it on the bed, then stood up, a frown on his face. Last night he had been genuinely afraid for his sanity and so exhausted he hadn't been able to think straight. It had only been the dreamless sleep potion which had let him sleep.

He frowned harder, totally perplexed. He knew why he'd been in such a state last night. He remembered all the details perfectly. He'd been in too much shock to feel his emotions clearly, but it wasn't as if he'd felt nothing. He just hadn't been able to deal with them at the time and his mind had managed to hold them at bay.

But now it was as if his memories were disconnected from any feelings, as if all his emotions had been locked away behind a thick glass wall. They were there. If he tried really hard he could feel an echo of them through the strange barrier surrounding them. Although even feeling an echo of his real emotions as enough to make him feel utterly sick. He could feel a horrible, yawning loss, an utter sense of aloneness and pain more terrible than he'd ever felt before, except for when Sirius had died. He blanked his mind hurriedly and folded his arms around himself, shivering slightly.

He stayed as he was for a few moments, breathing deeply. His contentment had vanished. He felt now as if his body felt too tight, and the top of his scalp itched. His very skin began to feel like a prison. He stopped himself firmly. It wasn't going to help him any to fly off the handle now.

He couldn't be sure of what had happened to his memories, but considering what had just happened, it seemed as if he'd somehow managed to block them away. Whether that was a good thing or bad thing – well, he would just have to see. Hermione would probably tell him to confront his feelings head on before they had a chance to fester or something but... his thoughts halted.

Mind determinedly blank, Harry got up. Apparently nothing was safe for him to think. Every thought he had seemed to lead to some new pain, something to threaten his suddenly precarious sanity. Soon, his head would probably be empty of everything except air.

He made his way to a door he hadn't noticed before. He had a feeling it would be a bathroom. It was. Small and extremely clean, everything seemed to be made of shining white marble. He quickly shucked his clothes and went into the bath. He hadn't realised how disgustingly dirty he'd felt until he saw the bath. He scrubbed himself until he felt almost raw, then got out of the bath, reaching for the cream towel that suddenly appeared on the bathroom rail.

He hesitated when he caught sight of his clothes. There was no way he was going to wear them as they were there, and he didn't fancy putting on clothes created by the room. It would be just his luck to forget and leave the room wearing them. He sighed, then pulled his wand out of the pocket of his trousers.

He didn't like using scourgify on clothes, but he couldn't remember a gentler cleaning spell. He was about to cast the spell when he remembered the little bottle of luck potion in his pocket and got it out. "Scourgify!" He tried to put as little power as possible into the spell and was rewarded with clean clothes that only smelt a little scorched. He put them on and slipped his wand and the luck potion back into his pocket.

He caught sight of his reflection on the wall mirror, and was quite thankful to find out it wasn't enchanted. He had no wish to talk, especially to the annoying personalities that usually inhabited the mirrors. His reflection did not look any different than usual. Still the same green eyes and messy black hair and skin tanned from frequent flying. He snorted. Had he expected to look different just because he knew the truth now? He was the same person he'd always been after all. He looked away from the mirror and took care not to look at it again. He couldn't stand to see his face today.

He left the bathroom, determined to ignore his memories. He had a lot more things to worry about, and if he didn't figure out what to do, he would probably be dead soon. The minister did not like him; he'd burned all bridges there at that Christmas meeting.

Not that he wanted to be friendly with Rufus Scrimgeour, but the minster was definitely not going to be doing him any favours. He'd probably issue a warrant for his arrest as soon as he found out the news. He rather doubted he was going to get a trial either. They'd probably have the dementors ready to give him the Kiss the second they got hold of him, the same thing that happened to Barty Crouch Jr back in fourth year. And then they would probably all congratulate themselves on a job well done, destroying a part of Voldemort.

Harry found himself standing stock still in the middle of the room, his hands clenched so tight they were drawing blood from where his nails cut the skin on his palms. He was breathing harshly, almost panting.

He forced himself to calm down. He definitely was not going to survive for long if he didn't manage to figure out a way of controlling himself. He wished for a moment he'd locked away _all_ of his emotions. It probably wouldn't have been healthy, but he really needed to keep a clear head.

Harry spun around as he noticed a shimmer from the corner of his eye. He watched startled, as a golden goblet materialized on the bedside cabinet. He approached it warily. A wry grin appeared on his face as soon as he recognized the potion in the goblet. It was Calming Draught. Apparently the Room thought he needed to calm down too. Or maybe it was just his subconscious wish. He picked up the goblet and drained it. A soothing wave of calmness spread throughout his body. He sighed in relief.

Now feeling much more able to think, he sat on the bed to sort through his options. He'd gained a little time by using the time-turner to get enough sleep so that he would be able to think clearly, and have enough time to decide what to do before Dumbledore or anyone else was able to make any plans. Now it was time for him to decide what on earth he was going to do.

First things first, what time was it exactly? He got his wand out again. "Tempus" he said. Numbers formed in the air, glowing slightly. It was almost two in the afternoon. He'd been asleep for nearly 12 hours. Another 12 hours of freedom in which he had to decide what to do.

He wandered dully what his earlier self was doing now. Laughing with Ron and Hermione probably, totally unaware of what was about to happen to him. He lay back on the bed, absently staring at the ceiling. As far as he could make out, he had two choices.

Choice number one: He could try to run. Of course, if he did that, he would have everyone after him; Dumbledore and the Order, Voldemort, the Death-Eaters, the Ministry and the Aurors. Not to mention the public. No doubt a reward would be set for his capture. They would probably alert the muggle police too, like they had done for Sirius. There was no way he'd be able to escape for long. He could count on one hand the number of places he'd been to, and that was inside the country. He didn't know anyone, and as for money...

Well, the money in his vault wasn't his now was it. It wasn't even his vault. Maybe he would be able to sneak out today and get some galleons, enough to live on while he figured out what to do. He probably could, if he was careful, but he couldn't really bring himself to even think about it. Maybe it was silly of him, but he couldn't help think of it as stealing.

Of course there was the vault Sirius had left him. A familiar pain went through him, and he frowned sadly. The key to Sirius's vault was somewhere at the bottom of his trunk. He'd left it there at the beginning of the year, not wanting to think about the reason he had it.

Harry sighed. He could probably find a way to get to the money in Sirius's vault if he really did decide to run but could he really run? The only other choice he had, which wasn't much of a choice at all, was to give himself up.

He closed his eyes and deliberately called up the memories of the night before. The barrier around the memories still prevented him from feeling the full force of the trapped emotions, but he could see the memories clearly enough. He watched them replay in his mind's eye, as if he were performing Legilimency on his own mind.

He watched it all again, from the moment the Potters had arrived and torn his world from its foundations. He wanted to remind himself what was at stake. Again he watched in his memory as Dumbledore told the Potters that he, Harry, was a Horcrux, and that Voldemort would never die so long as Harry was alive.

That was the part he'd wanted to see. Could he really live with himself if he were the reason Voldemort could not be killed? If he did run, and against all odds managed to hide and build a life for himself in some faraway place, wouldn't he be responsible, in part, for all the horror and pain Voldemort was sure to inflict upon the wizarding world?

Wasn't it his duty to help stop Voldemort in any way he could? He'd known since Sirius's death that he would either have to kill Voldemort, or be killed by him. He'd accepted then the possibility of his death, considering the vast difference in skill and knowledge between Voldemort and himself, even if, theoretically he matched him in power.

For a moment he was diverted from his train of thought. If he Harry, wasn't the Harry Potter who'd been born 'as the seventh month died' was he still the one in the prophecy? He _was_ the one who'd been marked but...

At least he could see how he was supposed to be Voldemort's equal in power, considering he _was_ made partly out of Voldemort's soul. For a moment Harry felt extremely sick, and he was more grateful than ever for the barrier on his emotions that made them unable to affect him too greatly. He really didn't want to think about what would be happening to him if he had to deal with all that bottled up mess of emotions.

He wrenched his mind back to his earlier train of thought. Harry had never thought of himself as a martyr despite what certain people seemed to think but now it seemed that in order to defeat Voldemort for good, he would have to walk willingly to his death.

He'd never wanted to be a martyr, but if it was the only way to defeat Voldemort, if his death would ensure that monster would never again be able to hurt anyone else...

Harry was only one person. If the war could be ended by the death of one person, he couldn't help but think that it was the duty of that person to give themselves up. Only an incredibly selfish person could put their own life in front of the many, many people whose lives would be destroyed if Voldemort was not defeated soon.

Harry had never thought of himself as a coward, but the fact that if he did what his heart told him was the right thing to do, he would be sacrificing himself for the sake of people who hated him, who would see his death as less than nothing, was unbearably bitter.

Harry had always done what he'd thought was the right thing. And he'd never been accused of being a coward.

Harry stared sightlessly at the ceiling. He had less than 12 hours until he was back in the proper time. Then he would have to accept his fate.

It was Dumbledore he would go to. He might have to die, but he would choose how, and he was certainly not about to give himself up to the Ministry. As for Voldemort, he'd probably order his Death Eaters to keep Harry _alive_. He shuddered. There were certainly some things worse than death.

The memories started looping in his head again. Harry wondered absently if he should try to break the barrier that held his emotions. No, he decided immediately. That would be stupid. He had no idea what would happen but he had a really bad feeling about it. It wasn't as if it was going to matter anyway.

He continued watching the memories absently. There was something bothering him about something in the memories but he couldn't figure out what it was.

He continued puzzling over it for a while; it was like an itch, something he could almost see out of the corner of his eye.

Then his attention was snagged by something Lily Potter had said. It seemed to echo and re-echo in his head. "James," she'd said, "you realise Dumbledore knew about the horcrux in Harry from the beginning don't you? You know what that means."

He couldn't make sense of the words; they seemed to be just empty sounds, void of any meaning. Then they finally came into focus and he understood at last exactly what Lily Potter had said.

For several endless minutes Harry did not move, his face was calm, almost puzzled. Then the false calm shattered and Harry screamed, a note of such anguished betrayal in his voice it would have broken the heart of anyone who heard it

Dumbledore had known. _Dumbledore had known_. It was the only thing he could think of. Dumbledore had known about the Horcrux from the very beginning. For 15 years, Dumbledore had known Harry carried Voldemort in his soul. For 15 years, Dumbledore had known Harry was marked for death.

Harry did not know he had fallen to his knees, that he was screaming so loudly his throat was rapidly starting to hurt. He did not feel it. He felt nothing but the searing betrayal of the one person he had always looked up to, the one person he'd trusted almost more than any other. Dumbledore, who he'd loved almost like a parent.

Dumbledore, who'd arranged for him to be raised in a house filled with hate, who'd told him he was there because of his Mother's love. Dumbledore, who'd known exactly what that house was like, who'd told him just last year that he, Dumbledore, had _known _he was condemning Harry to 'ten dark and difficult years'.

Harry was rocking back and forth on the floor now, both hands clenched in his hair, his self-loathing too much to bear, as he realised at last, what he should have seen from the very beginning.

It was obvious now, in hindsight, how very carefully he'd been trained, how he'd been taught to put his trust in Dumbledore above all others, so that his first reaction to everything was to first tell Dumbledore. He had always assumed that Dumbledore had his best interests at heart, that Dumbledore would be helping him to stay alive.

How incredibly dense he'd been. How stupidly, hopelessly naive.

If Dumbledore really had been planning on keeping him alive, if the war against Voldemort really had depended on Harry being able to defeat Voldemort, he would have been trained to fight from birth, or at the very least, from his first year. How else would he have been expected to defeat Voldemort, a dark lord who had terrorized the wizarding community long before Harry had even been born?

Harry wondered, with a dark and murderous fury, if all the perils he'd faced since the start of his school years had been deliberate. Had Dumbledore known of all the times he'd nearly died? Dumbledore himself had told him of how close an eye he'd kept on Harry. Had he watched, as Harry had nearly died, again and again, hoping for Harry's death, so that Dumbledore would not have to do the deed himself?

Harry felt as if he were being torn inside out, the rage that filled him so great, so terrible, it drove everything from his mind except the need to destroy. To punish the one who had so betrayed him, to rend him limb from limb, to cause as much pain as he possibly could. He looked up. The room had changed around him in answer to his need.

The room had expanded ten-fold, though Harry paid no attention to that. He was looking instead at the forest of statues that filled the room to the brim. The statues all seemed extremely life-like, they all wore colourful robes, and all had the same long silver hair and beard, the same bright blue eyes. Dumbledore looked backed at him out of a thousand faces.

If Harry had been rational, he would have realised of course that Dumbledore was not really there. He was not rational. Harry had been driven to the brink of sanity again and again in the last day, and confronted with the face of his betrayer, he lost his head.

Harry surged up and literally threw himself at the nearest statue; he did not even think of going for his wand. He wanted to hurt Dumbledore with his own hands. The statue broke with a resounding crash, and pieces of porcelain rained down upon him. Harry did not notice, he was already attacking the next statue, then the next. He did not even notice the multitude of small cuts that began to accumulate on his face and arms, he felt no pain, just his terrible need for vengeance. He did not stop until he'd broken every last statue, until he'd spent all of his rage and furious hurt upon the uncaring, perfect representations of the one he'd most wanted to hurt.

He'd realized of course, as the rage slowly drained away, that it was not Dumbledore himself he was hurting. But he hadn't been able to stop. Even now, though he was too exhausted to feel anything, the remnants of his murderous rage hovered around the edges of his mind.

At last, feeling sick, and more tired in body and mind than he could ever remember being, he levered himself off the floor where he'd fallen, and slowly, wearily picked through the rubble until he found his cloak. He wrapped it tightly around himself and slumped against the nearest wall.

What was he to do now?

He could never follow through with his original plan, not now that he had finally realized the truth. His mind twisted, too many conflicting thoughts and feelings filled him. He could not give himself up, and yet, and yet...

The situation hadn't really changed. In order for Voldemort to die, Harry had to die.

Harry suddenly blinked, his eyes wide. Oh, Dumbledore had indeed trained him very well. He grimaced, feeling disgusted with himself. Even after realizing the truth, he was still parroting Dumbledore's words. It was Dumbledore who'd said Harry had to die for Voldemort die.

Why should Harry have to die?

Why couldn't Dumbledore destroy Voldemort's current body? So what if Voldemort wouldn't really die. He still wouldn't have any power, he would just be a bodiless wraith, and there was no way Harry was going to believe that Dumbledore wasn't capable of containing a Powerless spirit.

Harry remembered again, with a stab of renewed fury, how Dumbledore had not even tried to kill Voldemort back on that terrible day when Sirius had died. Even Voldemort had remarked on it.

But no, it was obvious now that Dumbledore had always had his own plans, made who knew how long ago. Perhaps the very night the Potters had died and Dumbledore had made the discovery of the Horcrux in the baby Harry Potter. The baby who had turned out not to be a real baby after all.

No, Harry was not going to torture himself with all these useless thoughts anymore. Grimly, he did with consious thought what he'd done before unknowing. He gathered all his fury and pain and his need for vengeance and locked it away in his mind. It was inceridbly easy, all it required was the right amount of will and Harry's Will had always been strong. It had been forged in a childhood of terrible hardship, of deprivation and casual cruelty.

He had always known, as a child, that he could depend only on himself, that no one else would look out for him. It had been a lesson learnt early, and he had thrown it out the door the instant someone had shown him a little kindness. No more.

He was going to do as he should have done all along, and start looking out for himself. He would have to rediscover every lesson of survival he'd learnt as a child, and so foolishly cast aside. Perhaps it had been inevitable for a child to think, rescued from the Dursley's by the obviously kind and goodhearted Hagrid, and faced with all the wonder of the wizarding world, that he had no more need to be wary, that he'd finally found a home where he could be happy, with adults that actually cared, and friends that liked him.

He was going to find a way to escape from Dumbledore and Voldemort and all the rest of them. And he was not going to feel guilty about it. Dumbledore could do what he should have done last year, and destroy Voldemort himself. So what if Voldemort could not die while Harry lived? They could bloody well find a way to imprison Voldemort and leave Harry to live his life.

Now all he had to do was figure out how to escape.

* * *

AN: I changed the summary. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!


	3. The Plan

The Research

Harry Potter could not remember being more exhausted in all his life. The last day had been one emotional roller-coaster after another. From the discovery of who and what he really was, to the shattering realisation of Dumbledore's betrayal. Only the fact that he'd been able to seal away most of the more damaging emotions had preserved his sanity. His face and arms were still littered with cuts and bruises from his loss of control after his discovery of the truth of Dumbledore's duplicity.

There was no other evidence, the room having returned to its earlier state. Harry had moved from the floor to the bed, but had done nothing else. He had eight hours before he was back in his proper time, eight hours in which to figure out how he, Harry, almost 17 year old sixth year student, was going to give the slip to the entire British Wizarding community. And many of the other countries too, no doubt, considering how closely tied the Wizarding communities were to each other.

He had money, if he could figure out how to get to it before he was caught. He had a tiny bottle of luck potion, still more than half full. He had an invisibility cloak. He had his wand. And he had a time-turner.

This was his arsenal, the things that would let him create a new life for himself, if he could only figure out how.

Harry hadn't dared travel back for more than one day when he'd initially set the time-turner. He didn't know how time travel was regulated, but it was obvious from Lily Potter's remark that it was closely monitored. He didn't know what the TTC was, but it was something he would have to find out before he used the time-turner again.

Harry frowned pensively. He had the feeling time-travel would be the answer to his problems, but it might very well be the thing that managed to get him caught if he wasn't careful. This was going to call for a lot of careful research. Harry groaned. He could already feel the head-ache forming.

Or that could be because he hadn't eaten anything since he'd woken up and the enormous amount of physical energy he'd expended since then.

Right. First to get something to eat. He sat up, just in time to see a silver try materialize on top of the bed side table, filled to the brim with all his favourite breakfast dishes. Harry snorted softly. He could certainly get used to living in the Room of Requirement. Who wouldn't want to live in a place where every wish was instantly answered? Too bad he couldn't wish his problems away.

He sighed regretfully and pulled the tray to himself. He started eating absently; mentally making lists of what he would need to research. Time-travel first, and some way of disguising himself, ways to permanently alter appearance preferably. Soul magic would definitely have to go on the list too; he needed to find out exactly what was going on inside him. That would do for a start, he could always add on more things as they came up.

He reached for another piece of toast and noticed with surprise that he'd already polished everything off, all that was left were some crumbs. He shook his head, feeling bemused. He must have been even hungrier than he'd thought.

He went to the bathroom and washed up, then casted episky on the worst of his cuts before returning to the bedroom. He looked around, frowning slightly. It was a really nice bedroom, but it made him want to sleep, not study. He closed his eyes, fixing in his mind the kind of room he wanted. Something big, with plenty of light, and a comfortable place to study with plenty of books on the subjects he needed to research.

He opened his eyes and looked around, feeling himself relax as he did. It was a truly wonderful room; big and airy, sunlight streamed in through the massive windows and washed the whole room in gold. The floor was made of polished wood the colour of warm honey, and there were scattered chairs and benches around the room. Bookshelves rested against the walls and flower pots and plants were dotted around on some of the surfaces. A big comfy looking couch was in one of the corners. A coffee table laden with bowls of fruit and pitchers of pumpkin juice and butter ale stood in front of it. Piled of parchment and inkwell sat beside the food. His cloak hung neatly from a rack by the door.

He wandered around for a few minutes, looking through the various bookshelves. Glamours and disguises, time-travel and soul magic, just like he'd wanted.

He looked at the bookshelf nearest to the door; it was full of books to do with time. He grabbed several and made his way to the couch. It felt every bit as comfortable as it looked. He closed his eyes and let himself relax for a few minutes, before reluctantly opening them again. It was time to do some research. Harry ignored the gnawing feeling of loss as he picked up the first book. It felt beyond strange to be doing this by himself, without at least Hermione by his side.

He read the title; 'The Problem with Time-Travel'. Well, the title seemed promising. He opened the book and started to read. A while later he looked up and blinked. He couldn't remember a single thing of what he'd read. Harry groaned and forced himself back to the book. He _needed_ this information. After a while, he groaned in disgust and threw the book aside. There was nothing useful in the book, just arguments calling for the banning of time-turners.

He sighed, disheartened. He hadn't really thought he'd be so lucky as to get the information he needed in the very first book he picked, but it would have been nice. He reached for the whole stack of books and skimmed through the titles, looking for one that sounded useful. 'Time-travel: what you are allowed to do and what you are not', seemed like it might be useful.

He settled back and started to read. After a few minutes, he found himself with the same problem as before. He tried to force himself to carry on reading but his attention kept wandering. He'd spend a few minutes reading through the book, then catch himself staring at the wall or the floor, or anywhere else but the book.

Finally, he shut his book and tossed it on the coffee table. There was no point in trying to learn anything while he was so distracted. He only had a few hours left; he had to know what his options were with the time-turner before then.

He ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. He could have the room make him a wit sharpening potion to make him more alert but he didn't want to have to depend on a potion every time he ran into a little difficulty. On the other hand, potions were just tools. Maybe later, if he couldn't find anything. He closed his eyes and wished he could just find an easy simple to understand book that would tell him about how to use time-turners and what the TTC was. He didn't need to know anything else about time at the moment.

Harry sighed tiredly and forced himself to go back to the book, but when he went to pick it up, he noticed a leaflet lying on top of it, a leaflet with the Ministry of Magic logo. Puzzled, Harry picked it up and read the title. 'You and your Time-Turner, the Do's and Don'ts' it said in big bold writing.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, Harry started reading through it quickly. He realized at once what it was: the information given to Hogwarts students who were allowed the use of a time-turner.

He finished reading the leaflet then leaned back on the coach, thinking. According to the leaflet, the TTC was short for time travel control and was a part of the Department of Mysteries. Thankfully, the leaflet had explained exactly how the TCC monitored time travel. Apparently all ministry-made time-turners, which were the only legal kind, had built in charms.

There were charms that would set off alarms if someone tried travelling back further than 24 hours, charms that let them know if it was taken out of its authorised range and charms that would let them know if it was activated by anyone other than the authorised user.

Mention of the last two charms alarmed him for a moment, before he realized that if he'd been detected, the Aurors would have already arrived. Which meant they either couldn't find him since he'd immediately entered an unplottable Room of Requirement after he'd used the time-turner, or the charms had been taken off by Lily Potter or who ever gave her the time-turner. Which would make sense since it had been an unauthorised loan.

Harry wondered vaguely why they hadn't cancelled the first charm as well. Perhaps because they thought they wouldn't need to? Or the first charm was harder to remove. You couldn't damage the time-line much if you could only travel back for a day after all.

Well at least he'd be able to go back and relive the day over again. Hopefully that would be enough time to find out a way to disguise himself and figure out a way of escaping undetected. And if it wasn't, there was nothing stopping him from reliving the day over and over indefinitely. Harry paused for a moment at that thought, then shuddered. To relive the same day over and over again, stuck in one room, unable to see the sky or another person... the thought was horrifying.

Harry frowned. He had the oddest feeling there was something he was missing, something about the department and how it monitored the time-turners...

Of course! It was like the charm on underage wizards that detected magic done in their vicinity. But the underage wizard charm didn't work in heavily warded areas. Harry was willing to bet all the money in Sirius's fault the same was true for the time-turner. Which meant the ministry leaflet was just meant to scare the students, considering the strength of Hogwart's wards. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He just had to make sure Dumbledore wasn't in the castle next time he used the time-turner, and he'd be able to go as far back as he wanted.

There was an idea. He'd been planning on just going back for a day to throw off his pursuers, but what if he went back years instead? He'd be able to establish himself and have a solid identity by the time he got back to this time. Everyone would be looking for Harry, the 16 year old, no one would even think of looking for an adult. He just had to make sure his disguise was up to scratch.

He shelved that idea for later thought and decided to take a short break. He felt he could breathe a little easier now that he knew he wasn't operating under a deadline. He stood up and took an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it, walking slowly around the room as he chewed slowly. The room was even bigger than he'd first thought. He made his way to one of the huge windows, the pouring sunshine calling to him irresistibly. Rolling fields full of wildflowers and greenery stretched as far as the eye could see.

Harry shook his head in wonder. The Room of Requirement never ceased to amaze him. He found himself wondering about the magic behind its enchantment. He'd never seen or heard of anything else like it. It seemed strange that only the house-elves had known of it.

No one hardly used it even now that its existence was known to all the school. It seemed a bit strange people weren't taking advantage of its extraordinary abilities. Even he hadn't bothered to come here to use it once all year, apart from all the times he'd been trying to find out what Malfoy was up to.

There had to be more to it than met the eye. A room that gave you almost everything you wanted while you were inside it? It should be famous. People should be queing up to use Chamber of Secrets was well known, and no one could even get inside it. It made no sense at all.

Suddenly Harry's eyes widened. There were words writing themselves on the front wall of the room. He read them as they appeared.

_Seeker of knowledge, you wish to know the secrets of this Room. I leave this message for all who seek, so they do not invite destruction upon themselves by seeking this knowledge where they should not._

_As my colleagues and I neared the completion of this, our school, there came to us a Wizard, mighty in power. He wished to be part of the school and offered to us his services. I am glad to say not one of us were tempted to accept. The wizard was a charming fellow, his features handsome, but there lurked about his being something unwholesome, so that all who looked at him felt sullied and wished to be far away from his presence._

_He was angered by our refusal, and left, leaving the promise of his return. We did not think over long on his promise, for as powerful as he was, he did not match any of us four alone, let alone all of us together._

_We finished the building of our school, and named it Hogwarts, a name of Power. There were only the wards to be set, and the first of our students were already in residence when the arrogant wizard returned. He came alone, with no great weapons on his person, but walked in to Hogwarts as though he had an army at his back, so great was his confidence._

_He stood in our great hall, and proclaimed to us that Hogwarts was now his and that we, who had built the school, were now his slaves to do with as he wished. We laughed in his face, of course._

_He did not become angry. He laughed, then proved to us he was indeed a madman. His eyes turned black, a sign of possession by creatures long gone from this world. Clear at last was the source of his confidence. He had gone to the Forbidden Lands and made there an ally. They had thought to break the Compact by sharing bodies, and it seemed to them it had worked, for the creature was here, in lands it should have never been able to touch._

_We knew better of course. It was not the first time someone had attempted to break the Compact and any learned person knew well the fate that befell those power hungry fools._

_Then the creature emerged, and it must be confessed, I had never felt more fear in my life entire. The creature was a Djinn Lord. Perhaps if we had more time, and had a few hundred of our fellows to help, we might have been able to defeat it._

_But our fear was for nought. The moment the Djinn Lord materialized fully, both he and the foolish wizard were struck by the backlash of energy created by the Compact they had sought to betray. The wizard died instantly, but the Djinn Lord lingered on for a few minutes longer._

_Powers such as the Djinn Lords were no longer present in our world, so the power of the dying Djinn Lord presented to us an unforeseen opportunity to safeguard our school and, by virtue of his attempted attack upon us and his betrayal of the Compact he now belonged to us by the old laws._

_We took him to the centre of the school and bound him there, then used his power to set our wards. The wards were so powerful, we were sure they would last for hundreds of years, if not more, before they would need renewal. The Djinn Lord died of course, though he would have lived close to forever if he had not tried to break the Compact. You stand in the room he died in, O Seeker of knowledge. Something of his power will always linger here, and grant any who come here whatever they wish, so long as they are in this room and so long as what they want is within the limits of the power that remains. This is the secret of the Room. We wrought enchantments to hide it, except from those in severe need._

_Take heed, Seeker, and never try to break the Compact. It would be your end._

_R Ravenclaw_

Harry finished reading, amazed. He shook his head, feeling extremely ignorant. He'd never thought over much of what the wizarding world outside Hogwarts was like, but he'd had some vague ideas, based on what he'd seen of Hogsmeade and the shopping Alleys, the bits and pieces he'd picked up in history of magic classes, and what he'd read in the prophet and heard from his friends. He had never once heard of anything like the things mentioned in Ravenclaw's letter.

It made him want to leave Hogwarts far behind, run away from all his problems and go off exploring the world to see what other fascinating things he could discover. He was certainly never going to learn anything in Hogwarts; especially since he'd undoubtedly be struck of the register as soon as the news broke.

If he'd been more like Hermione, perhaps he would have preferred to stay in the Room forever, learning of all the histories of the magical world in the endless books provided by the Room.

Harry couldn't bring himself to do that. He'd spent too much of his life locked up to be able to stay too long in one room, all alone, no matter how wonderful it was.

He was already counting the hours to when he'd know enough to be able to make a clean escape. His attention returned to the wall as Ravenclaw's message faded away. He wondered absently what the Compact she'd mentioned was. It sounded like some kind of magical contract to him.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind piles and piles of books and scrolls began to appear in front of him. Harry stared. He wasn't about to go reading all these books for the sake of simple curiosity.

He closed his eyes, feeling a little silly, and silently wished to see the shortest scroll or book that would be able to explain what the Compact was. When he opened his eyes, a single scroll lay in front of him. He picked it up, it looked and felt old, but it was readable enough. He started reading it, thinking that if he hadn't just read Rowena Ravenclaw's message, he would think he was reading a fairy tale.

_There was once a great and terrible war. A war of Magic. Magic of such power and destruction as we could never believe exist today. Lands were torn asunder, mountains levelled to the ground, and land once flat raised high. Seas became dry ground and dry ground turned into seas. The very shape of the world was broken._

_But the war still raged on. Then Atlantis, Jewel of the Sea, Home of the mighty Mage Lords was destroyed. This shocked all the participants of the war into taking notice of what they had done to the world._

_A parley was called to all the leaders of the War and a worldwide truce was declared while it lasted, backed by the most stringent of magical oaths so none could betray it. It lasted for many months, and only the oaths kept it free of bloodshed._

_There were many sides in the conflict but at last it boiled down to three factions. There were those who were so horrified of what had happened they wanted all magic to be declared anathema and be used no more, and enclaves created for the purely magical beings, sealed away from the rest of the world. There were those who wanted to keep magic, but only the small magics, that which could not be used to cause too great a damage. This second faction was in the minority. Then there were those who refused to have any weakening of their magic, preferring to die rather than lose any part of themselves._

_At last a solution was offered which satisfied all. The powerful Aes Sidhe, dwellers of the Otherworld, those who had once played at being gods, had attended the Parley though they themselves had taken no part in the war._

_But they had noticed the terrible war that had almost destroyed the world, for the destruction of the world would have meant the destruction of the Otherworld as well, for both worlds were anchored to each other._

_The Aes Sidhe proposed the creation of a third world for those who wished to keep their powers intact, so long as they came up with a way to make sure their powers never again threatened the safety of the worlds._

_All agreed and the other two factions were so relieved to be getting rid of the third, they too came to an agreement._

_Since the numbers of the second faction were so few, those who wished to live entirely free of magic decided they would be able to live together in the old world, provided they each kept to themselves. (The roots of the muggle-wizarding conflicts of the present age can be traced to these two factions)._

_The Aes Sidhe gave up part of their own Otherworld and working in conjunction with many of the more powerful races combined it with the lands of those who were to live in the new world. It was the most powerful display of magic anyone had ever seen before or since. The new world was anchored to both the otherworld and the old world, drawing power from both._

_It was named Atlantea, in memory of fallen Atlantis. The only way in was through the anchorage points. The Compact was created afterwards, to meet the conditions set by the Aes Sidhe._

_A mighty spell was forged, part magical contract, part shield and cast upon the new inhabitants of Atlantea, so that they and their descendants would never again be able to return to the old world or use their powers in a way that could cause destruction to the worlds._

The scroll ended and Harry shook himself. For a few minutes he'd been transported to a different world. What strange days those must have been, he thought to himself. He wondered who the author had been and why this kind of thing wasn't taught at History of Magic classes. It was a lot more interesting than goblin rebellions that was for sure. Perhaps the ministry was afraid people would go looking for these other worlds? He pondered for a few minutes, and then shrugged. It was nothing to do with him. He asked the room to vanish all the new material.

At least now he knew he'd probably be able to find the information he needed more easily. He stretched out, wishing for a comprehensive book on ways to disguise oneself. A thick tome materialized in front of him, the title embossed on the cover in big golden letters. 'A compendium of glamours and magical disguises' read the title. He grimaced at the size of the book. It would take ages to go through all of it. Hopefully, he would be able to find something quickly. After about an hour's worth of reading, Harry was starting to feel extremely discouraged. There were literally thousands of ways of disguising oneself, You could charm your voice to sound different, your scent to change, charm your hair as long or as short as you wanted. Make your skin any colour you wanted. You could even transfigure any part of your body you wanted, providing you were good enough at transfiguration.

The problem was not a single one of these things were safe from counter charms, and any transfiguration could be cancelled out. He'd even discovered a problem he hadn't known about. There was a charm in the book that disguised someone's magical signature. He hadn't even been aware that he could be tracked by his magic.

What he needed was a way to permanently change the way he looked. Something that could never be cancelled out. A new stack of books appeared in front of him. Harry felt like banging his head on the table. Why hadn't he just asked the room in the first place?

He pulled the stack of books towards him and started reaching for the first one when he abruptly froze, his face going pale. It was a book on Ritual Magic. Harry had never heard anything good about rituals. The only one he remembered being in had resulted in Voldemort's rebirth and it was pretty well known Voldemort had gone through a lot of rituals.

At last, he warily picked up the first back and started reading. Just because Voldemort had used rituals to change himself into a monster didn't mean that all rituals were evil, or that _he_ was going to change into Voldemort.

A little while later, Harry put the book down. In some ways It had not been bad as he thought. All the rituals seemed to require something of a sacrifice, either of the person doing the ritual or someone else. The range of sacrifices required stemmed from the insignificant, like a simple drop of blood, to rituals that asked for things like the loss of a major sense, like eyesight. Harry shook his head. He couldn't see why anyone would want to do those rituals. There couldn't possibly be a good enough compensation.

Then there were the other rituals. The ones that called for a human sacrifice. Harry didn't know how he stopped himself from hurling all over the book when he read about those, especially when he figured out that the ritual he needed was one of those.

Feeling incredibly tired and sick of heart, Harry asked the room to vanish the books. He was never going to murder anyone just for the sake of making his life a little easier. He would just have to find a good enough disguise by using one of the other ways. Just because they were not as absolute a way of disguise as rituals didn't mean they couldn't be just as effective.

Back to the drawing board. Harry lay down on the couch and juts spent a few minutes thinking. The room gave him exactly what he asked for. There was no point in making general requests. If he asked in the right way, he should be able to get what he wanted without having to wade through a bunch of books.

He sat back up and concentrated on what he needed. A way of permanently changing his body that did not require him to harm either himself or any living person. This time a single scroll appeared. Harry picked it up, a mingled sense of apprehension and anticipation going through him.

He skimmed through it quickly, then groaned and slumped back into the coach. Why had he framed his command that way? It was another ritual, except this time, it didn't require a murder. No, it just required desecration this time. Specifically, a dead body. A recently dead body, no older than a day. What the hell was he supposed to do? Snatch a body from the morgue? Add to some family's grief over losing a family member by stealing their loved one's body?

Harry resolutely put down the scroll. He couldn't be thinking of going through with it. If only it wasn't the best way he'd found so far. If he ignored the feeling of repugnance that filled him with even the thought of going through with it, this ritual really did have all the things he needed. It also had some severe disadvantages, namely the fact that he wouldn't be able to use magic for at least two years before his new body and his magic meshed together into a cohesive whole.

The thought of not being able to use magic for two whole years was stomach-churning but it didn't even compare to the thought of committing murder.

Harry grimaced as he suddenly discovered he really _was_ thinking of going through with it. If only....

He pushed that thought away. Thinking of if onlys was never a good thing. Harry chewed his lip absently as he read the scroll again. He frowned unhappily. The ritual required the dead body to be younger than his by at least a couple of years. That made it seem even worse somehow.

Harry stared down at his lap grimly, his hands clenched. It was either go through with it, or leave himself vulnerable to Dumbledore and Voldemort and the ministry. If he wasn't planning on just giving up, he had no choice but to take the best options available to him. He nodded once, sharply.

He would go through with the ritual and hope whoever used to own the body he ended up with did not mind too much.

A new thought occurred to him. Where on earth was he going to find a freshly dead body?

He'd been having gruesome thoughts about having to dig up a grave, but by the time a body was buried, it wouldn't be suitable. So where...

Ah. Obituaries always showed the time of death. Hmm, and newspapers were full of murders. And there was no need to steal from some poor family either. He would search for someone who didn't have a family and if looking for someone without a family would take a lot longer, so what? He had plenty of time. Maybe it didn't mean much, compared to what he was planning on doing, but it made him feel a little better.

He'd already decided what time to go back to. The year before he first went to Hogwarts. He didn't want to go too far back, into a time he was unfamiliar with. No point in borrowing trouble. Since the body would need to be at least two years younger than his, that meant finding someone who had died in 1990, around the age of 14.

Suddenly, Harry froze. He'd managed to block the knowledge of what he'd found out so thoroughly it never crossed his mind, even while he made his escape plans. But the fact remained; he was not the real Harry Potter, which meant he was not born in 1980. How old _was_ his body?

After a few moments Harry let out a careful sigh. He supposed it didn't really matter, there could only be a year's difference anyway. So, 1990, and a 13 year old body. According to the ritual, his own body and the dead body would combine, making a brand new one out of the best parts of both, though the new body would be the physical age of the dead body.

Harry grimaced. He didn't like the thought of being 13 again. And how did the ritual define what the best parts of both were anyway? Nightmare thoughts of turning into a creature that looked like Voldemort danced around in his head, working him up to a panic and making him start to doubt his entire plan.

He stopped himself before he started screaming. He didn't have the energy or desire to come up with a new plan. At the moment he felt as if he were going on sheer willpower, and that if he stopped, he wouldn't be able to make himself start again.

He picked up parchment and quill from the table and started writing down the things he needed to get for the ritual. The ritual itself was in two parts. A potion, and some kind of circle of power that he would have to draw with his blood _and_ the blood of the dead body. That would explain why it would have to be fresh. Harry ignored the shiver of revulsion that spread through his body.

The potion seemed quite complicated, but Harry wasn't too worried. The instructions on how to make the potion was very clear. He would just have to be careful and follow the steps exactly. He frowned down at the list of ingredients. Some of this stuff he'd never even heard of before. Not that that was saying much. He'd never really paid attention to potions before this year. Harry just hoped he would be able to find everything he needed in the apothecaries at Diagon Alley or even in Knockturn Alley when he went shopping.

Speaking of which... Harry pulled another sheet of parchment from the pile and stared at it for a few moments. This was going to be the shopping trip from hell. Right. No use in putting it off. He started writing down all the things he would need.

A lot of money. Buying enough stuff to start a whole new life was going to be expensive. A tent, because who knew where he would end up. Food. Clothes and basic toiletries. Some basic potions and potion supplies. Something to carry it all in. Muggle money, at least seven years old. He couldn't think of anything else. Hopefully it would be enough.

Now that he had a rough plan of what he was going to do, it was time to think of how he was going to get money. Harry smiled bitterly. He knew where he was going to get the money. It was funny, before this he hadn't wanted anything to do with the things Sirius had left him, but now, he was determined no one was going to take it away from him. Sirius had left everything to _him_, not to James Potter or Lily Potter or some baby. His eyes started to water, and he blinked, discovering he'd been staring at the wall hard enough for his eyes to hurt.

12 Grimmauld Place was beyond his reach, seeing as he couldn't carry off an entire building, but he resolved then and there to figure out a way to empty it off everything that was useful. Getting the money from Sirius's vault would be easy at least, since he had the key. He just had to figure out a way to get to the bank unseen.

Harry's eyes widened and he sat up. Of course! Kreacher was the Black Family elf. The goblins would think nothing of letting him in to the Family vault so long as he had the key. And that also solved the problem of how to get his supplies. Harry got his wand out and cast a quick tempus. Just over two hours left till he was back in his proper time.

By this time his earlier self was probably in Dumbledore's office, perhaps at this very moment eavesdropping on the conversation that was going to rip his life apart. Poor sod.

Harry decided to wait another hour before calling Kreacher, just to be on the safe side. He spent the time flicking through the various books and eating the snacks on the table. At last an hour passed and Harry called for Kreacher. There was no sign of him however. Harry frowned, then rolled his eyes at himself. Of course Kreacher wouldn't be able to get in. He'd asked for a room where no one and nothing could find after all. He quickly asked the room to be accessible only to Kreacher and himself, then called for the elf again.

There was a crack, and Kreacher appeared, looking as dirty and bedraggled as the last time he'd seen him. The elf glared at him, a look of loathing on his face, then bowed low. "Master," he croaked.

The elf did not straighten from his bow, though Harry was quiet sure that was more to do with Kreacher muttering insults under his breath than any sign of respect. "Kreacher," Harry said again, "Look at me".

"Yes, Master" said Kreacher and straightened, looking at Harry's knees. Harry sighed. "I order you to look at my face," he said. The elf looked up at him silently, clearly reluctant to have anything to do with him. "Kreacher, I'm going to give you some commands and I expect you to carry them out, without trying to betray me in any way." Harry paused and looked at the elf. "Do you understand me?" he asked.

"Kreacher understands, Master" replied the little elf, an unhappy look on his grimy face.

Harry paused for a few moments in thought. He had to frame his commands to Kreacher carefully, and though he was not fond of the little elf, he had to figure out a way to get the elf on his side. It would be much easier to have a willing helper. He wished futilely for a moment that he could have called Dobby. But Dobby, while being his friend, and loyal to him, was not bound to him and therefore could be made to talk. He was Kreacher's Master, and the magical bond that bound the elf to him wasn't going to break even if they seized all other Black assets. Harry's eyes narrowed. Perhaps that was the way to get the elf on his side.

"Kreacher" said Harry. "The ministry are going to try to steal all the Black Family money and properties."

For a moment Kreacher did not move, then he seemed to swell up where he stood. "Thieves and betrayers" he shrieked. "Oh my poor Mistress, what is Kreacher to do?" He began to wail, a harsh broken sound.

Harry winced. "Kreacher, I have an idea on how to stop them," he said loudly.

The elf stopped wailing and looked at him, sniffing. "Master has an idea?" he asked in hopeful voice. "Master will save Mistresses house from the nasty thieving wizards?"

Harry sighed in relief. "Yes, Kreacher, I promise you I will try very hard to makes sure no one gets any part of anything that belongs to the Black family," Harry said this with obvious sincerity.

The elf wiped his face with his grimy pillowcase and stood up. "What does Master want Kreacher to do?" He asked. "Kreacher promises to work hard Master," he looked at Harry with a face full of fervour.

Harry looked at him warily. He remembered seeing that look on Dobby's face. He sincerely hoped he wasn't making a mistake. "We can't do anything about the house itself at the moment, Kreacher," he said after a few moments. "But we can save all the items inside it."

Kreacher's eyes went wide with delight when he heard this. "Master is most kind," he said in a worshipful voice. "Oh my mistress would be so happy to know the nasty wizards will not get all her treasures."

Harry cleared his throat. "Yes well, we have a few things to do before you can pack up the house. Go and get my things from the Gryffindor dorms and come back here as fast as you can. There is no need to be tidy."

"Yes, Master," said Kreacher and disappeared. He was back just a minute later with Harry's trunk. Harry winced when he saw it. It was closed, but it was bulging, so overloaded it looked as if it were about to burst. "Step back, he told Kreacher. Harry got his wand out waved it at the trunk. It popped open, and heaps of clothing and books and sweets spilled out.

Harry rummaged through the mess at the bottom until he found the rolled up sock where he'd hidden the little golden key.

He handed the key to Kreacher, then turned to the table and got the shopping lists he'd written earlier. He showed it to Kreacher. "Do you know where to get all these things from?" he asked Kreacher. The elf nodded.

"Good," said Harry. "How long would it take you to get all of them?" Kreacher looked through the list. "It will not take me long Master, perhaps three hours." Harry chewed on his lip thoughtfully. Three hours wasn't too long.

"All right," he said finally. "I want you to get enough money from the vault to pay for all of this, and then do the shopping and come back here," he said. "And Kreacher," he added, "I want you to clean yourself up before you go."

The elf cringed. "Yes Master," he said with a shame filled voice and disappeared with a crack.

Harry sighed wearily. It had been a really long day. He stretched out on the couch, putting his hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn. He might as well have a nap. Kreacher was going to be gone for a few hours, and there was nothing else to be done till he came back.

* * *

AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed :)


	4. The Execution Part 1

Harry was awakened by the crack of Kreacher's return. He sat up, blearily rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Kreacher was standing right in front of the couch, carrying what looked like a large leather satchel. Harry stared for a moment. He almost didn't recognise the little elf. Kreacher looked extremely clean, and he'd exchanged his grimy pillowcase for a snowy white towel.

"Master" Kreacher bowed low. "I have everything you wanted."

Harry jumped up. "Excellent!" he said with a smile. "You had no trouble finding everything?"

Kreacher shook his head. "Some of the shops had closed for the night, but they were willing to open for a little extra money. My old Mistress used to send me shopping often in the night."

Harry's mouth dropped open, and he looked around. The sun was still pouring in through the windows. After a moment he groaned and closed his eyes. _Of course it's night-time you Idiot_, he thought to himself. He'd known it was night, but the room's artificial sunlight had made him forget.

He shook his head. So most of the shops stayed open all night. That was useful to know.

"OK Kreacher," he said. "Where is everything then?"

Kreacher held out the satchel to him. "In here, Master," he said.

Harry looked at the satchel. It didn't look that big. "OK" he said slowly. He took the bag and opened it. Then he stuck his whole head inside it. There seemed to be a rather large room inside what should have been the inside of the bag. There were an awful lot of packages of all shapes and sizes in neat piles all around the room. Most of them looked to be shrunken.

"This is what you wanted Master?" asked Kreacher, looking a bit anxious. "The list said something to put it all in."

"Hmm?" Asked Harry absently, his head still stuck inside the satchel. He popped out to look at Kreacher. "Oh yes, this is exactly what I wanted," he said.

"I am glad you are pleased, Master" said Kreacher, looking quite pleased himself.

"Did you really get _everything_ on the list?" Harry asked, bemused. "Even the muggle money?"

Kreacher blinked his big frog like eyes. "I got it from Gringotts the same time I got the money for the shopping, Master" he replied.

Harry shook his head. "Ok" he said. "I want you to get something that will hold all the contents of the vault, a trunk maybe; we need something to pack up the house as well. Empty the vault first, and then go to the house. Make sure you are not seen. Pack up everything that is of use, then come back here"

"At once Master," said Kreacher with a thrilled look on his face. He bowed and popped out.

Harry stared contemplatively after him. If his plan succeeded, he would be a whole new person. Would the bond with Kreacher still remain? Harry sighed and reminded himself to sort out something for the elf, just in case. It wouldn't be fair to leave him hanging, especially after he had been so helpful.

Harry turned his attention to the satchel, wondering how he was supposed to get everything out. After a moment, he shrugged and put it on the couch, then pointed his wand at it. "Accio packages," he said.

All the packages zoomed out and fell into piles all around him. Harry surveyed the scene with a wry look. _Perhaps I should have been more specific when I told Kreacher to go shopping_, he said to himself. He started separating out the packages. Most of the unshrunken items turned out to be potions ingredients. He put those aside carefully. He sorted the rest of the items by size and started unshrinking them. The majority of those seemed to be clothes. He opened one of the parcels and winced at the sight of what looked like high quality black silk. Really fancy clothes.

Harry shook his head and closed up the parcel without looking to see what it was. What had Kreacher done? Go into Gladrags and ask for an entire wardrobe for his Master? A really rich Master who didn't care about how much he spent apparently. The shop owner must have thought it was his lucky day. A little pocket pouch which had been mixed up with the other items turned out to have the change from Kreacher's shopping. He stuck it in his pocket and set aside all the clothes parcels before turning his attention to the few remaining packages.

An oddly shaped package wrapped in sparkly blue paper turned out to be a solid gold cauldron. Harry put it next to the potion ingredients. He would need it to brew the potion for the ritual. The next few items turned out to be toiletries, although there was quite a bit more stuff than Harry would have got for himself. Harry shook his head again, and turned to the last package.

It was the biggest and Harry had left it for last. It turned out to be the tent. It was inside a smart looking bag made of the same dark brown material as the tent. Harry opened the bag and it sprung up and quickly assembled itself. It seemed to be a normal two person tent from the outside, but Harry had seen wizarding tents before. He bent down and entered the tent cautiously.

He stepped into what seemed like the wizarding version of a show flat. The entrance led directly to a light and spacious living room with rich wood panelling and matching flooring that seemed to create a sense of warmth. A luxurious leather sofa and two matching armchairs were arranged in the middle of the room, surrounding a large coffee table. Two empty bookshelves stood against one of the walls. There was no fireplace, just a big bay window showing a seaside view. There were three closed doors leading away from the living room.

Harry chose a door at random and opened it. It led to the kitchen, though it didn't seem much like the kitchens Harry had seen before. Sunlight poured through a small window and washed the whole room in light. It was rather small, and there were no modern appliances at all. One work surface with an inset sink lined one wall with a rather old fashioned oven in the middle, bordered on either side by two cupboards. One lone cabinet stood in the far corner and a small polished wood dining table and two chairs were set against one wall.

Harry didn't bother entering, instead choosing to check the other two doors. One led to a normal looking bathroom, all shining blue marble. The other led to a big bedroom, decorated tastefully in pale green and white. Harry thought it looked like a hotel room.

He went back to the living room and exited the tent. It folded itself back up as soon as he tried to get it down. Useful. It was a nice enough place, and Harry thought he could get used to living in it, which was a good thing since he would have to when he went back in time, at least until he managed to find a more permanent place.

Harry looked around the room as a feeling of restlessness gripped him. It was still the same large, sunny room he'd been in all night, but it was starting to make him feel as if he were in a prison cell. And this was only the first day. "Belt up" he said to himself. "Only one more week and you can get out of here." But only if he managed to brew the potion for the ritual correctly he reminded himself.

He tossed all the packages back in the satchel except for the stuff required for the ritual. He'd had Kreacher buy four times as much ingredients as he needed, just in case, but Harry was determined to get it right on the first go. He was quiet convinced he would start talking to himself if he had to stay in the room for too much longer.

Harry narrowed his eyes in concentration and a small potions lab appeared in the corner of the room, complete with stools and an already lit fire for the cauldron. He levitated the potion ingredients to the newly created lab and spread them on the preparation table. Seven preserved whole butterflies, butterfly eggs, larva and pupa, phoenix ashes, one small emerald, ground to a fine powder, fluxweed, a big bag of Chrysanthemum petals and a dozen different essences and extracts of magical plants and herbs.

According to the scroll, he would have to half fill the cauldron with water, add the phoenix ashes and bring it to the boil over a medium hot fire, then add all of the ingredients except for the petals in one go and leave them to stew for a day and a night. Then at every dawn and every dusk for the next seven days he would have to add one petal at a time, stirring clockwise after each addition for a total of forty-nine petals, and then the same again, except going counter clockwise. At dawn on the seventh day, if brewed correctly, it would turn a silvery white colour.

No time like the present thought harry to himself. It had to be close to dawn now. He cast a quick tempus to check. Just over an hour left. Harry sat in his couch and started to read a book on soul magic to pass the time. He skimmed through the book, only stopping to read the bits that seemed interesting. The most useful thing he read was instructions on how to get into a trance state that would let you see your soul. Harry made a mental note to check it out later. It was definitely something he needed.

The hour was almost up and Harry was to about to set the book aside when he glimpsed a picture of a dementor and stopped to read about it.

_It is a common misconception that Dementors can survive only on feeding off emotions. Too long a period without consuming a soul would lead to the eventual loss of their powers and then they would fade from existence entirely. While the patronus charm can be used to drive away them away the only way to permanently destroy a dementor is to destroy the soul energy that sustains them. _

_Dementors can be useful in several rituals involving Soul Magic. A highly trained Soul Mage can control a Dementor or even bind it to himself. There have also been reports of Soul Mages who have successfully used a Dementor to treat the Lycanthropy curse. However that is most certainly a false rumour, as the Lycanthropy curse involves an infection of the affected's soul, and not a parasitic soul attaching itself to the affected, as some people think. Using a Dementor to remove the soul of a Lycanthrope would certainly stop them from being affected by the curse, but that can hardly be called a cure, as the Lycanthrope would then die from the loss of his soul. However, there was a study by prominent Soul Mage Agustus Leland, in which he managed to separate an infected soul from the body of a Lycanthrope, and was then able to destroy the infection before he returned the soul to its body. Unfortunately the Lycanthrope died only a few weeks later. It is theorized that the lycanthropy had become a vital part of the soul and the affected could no longer survive with a normal soul. Interestingly enough, although the former Dycanthrope no longer transformed at the full moon, his human body still retained the changes that came with the curse, namely the increased strength and heightened senses. _

The book went on to talk some more about the dementors but the crack of Kreacher's arrival stopped him from reading on. The little elf was carrying a trunk twice as tall as he was, but he still tried to bow.

"Master", his voice was muffled but the joy in it was obvious to hear. Harry jumped up from the couch and hurried over to take the trunk from him. A cursory inspection showed it to be a lot like the trunk Mad-eye Moody had back in fourth year except this one looked brand new. Kreacher grinned up at him, his face beaming with happiness. "There was no one in the house Master; I was able to collect all of Mistresses treasures."

Harry smiled back at him. "Great," he said. "What about the bank?"

"I went there first Master Harry, I bought a bottomless sack from the goblins for storing everything from the vault, then I went to Diagon Alley for this trunk," Kreacher beamed again. "I was able to get everything in the house."

"Very good Kreacher," said Harry, looking curiously at all the locks on the trunk. "Where's the keys then?" he asked.

Kreacher jumped. "Oh, sorry Master Harry," he said. He produced a set of keys on an iron ring and handed it over. "Thanks Kreacher," said Harry.

He took the keys and turned them over in his hand. Each key was marked with a number, from one to seven. Harry took the number one key and fitted it to the first lock. It was filled with books. And so was the next one. And the next. Harry turned to look at Kreacher. The elf smiled at him. "The books from the Library, Master Harry".

Harry raised his brows. "I see." Using the rest of the keys revealed a lot of furniture, paintings and other assorted Black Heirlooms. Kreacher had even managed to get the Black Family tree off the wall. Harry had been wondering if the seventh key would open up to a room like Moody's, but it just turned out to be the same as the others. It contained a single large sack. Harry opened it long enough to see it was full of gold galleons and what looked like a dragon's hoard of treasure, and then he closed it up and locked up the chest.

Harry stifled a yawn and looked around. Sunrise must have arrived by now. "Kreacher, go and get some water from the Kitchens please. About a cauldron full." Kreacher blinked at him. "Yes Master," he said and disappeared. He reappeared a moment later with a steel bucket full of sparkling water and set it down in front of Harry. "Thanks Kreacher," said Harry. "

Harry looked at Kreacher thoughtfully. He knew what he was going to do about the elf now. And hopefully it would be an excellent way of throwing of anyone who would look for him. "Kreacher, do you know how to find a wizarding house for sale?"

Kreacher blinked at him. "Yes, Master."

"Good," said Harry. "I want you to go and find one that will be suitable as the new Black residence. Make sure it's an old house. I think they have much more character." _And an old house will keep you busy_, he added mentally. "Don't worry about Grimmauld Place," he said to Kreacher, who had looked both happy and alarmed at the news. "We'll get it back, eventually."

Kreacher left, and Harry turned to look out the window. It was still broad day light. He shook his head in exasperation and asked the room silently to show a real view from outside. The room became darker as the bright sunlight pouring in from the window turned into a wash of red and orange and yellow. Harry watched for a few minutes before he remembered the potion he was supposed to be making.

He set the cauldron on the fire, then filled it halfway with the water from the bucket and added the phoenix ashes. Then he set about getting the other ingredients ready. After he was done, he retrieved the book on soul magic he'd been reading earlier and sat down on one of the stools. He flipped through the book and started to read the section that spoke of how to see the soul.

_In order for one to view their own soul, or anyone else's they must first awaken their othersense, that which allows one to see beyond the physical world. Novices may choose to do this through use of the Expositus Penetralis charm, however, with training one will be able to awaken their othersense and keep it active without the use of charms. _

_Once you have mastered the Expositus Penetralis, you must then learn the Seorsum Animus charm, which will allow you to separate your consciousness from your physical body. It must be noted the second charm is much harder than the first, and will take considerable time to master. As with the first spell, this charm is for the novice and with training one will be able to separate their consciousness from their body at will. These two disciplines are not only used for Soul Magic, they are also essential for many more areas of magic. Those with prior training in the mind arts will find they master them quite quickly. Be cautious when separating your body from your consciousness, as your physical body will be left defenseless.  
_

Harry looked up from the book as the cauldron started to boil. He stood up and stretched. The lack of activity over the last day had his whole body feeling tight. He carefully added the ingredients to the potion, and then lowered the heat. He would have to leave it like that until the next day.

He went back to his book and continued to read the instructions on how to perform the two charms. For the _Expositus Penetralis _all you had to do was concentrate on the spell while pointing your wand at your forehead.

Harry put down the book and drew his wand. A fruitless half an hour later found Harry glowering down at his wand. All he'd managed to achieve was a fierce pounding headache. The book had made it seem so much easier. He rubbed his forehead, wincing. A goblet full of pain relief potion appeared as soon as the thought of asking the room crossed his mind. He drained it and gave a sigh of relief as his headache disappeared straightaway.

He decided to see if he would have any luck with the other spell. The instructions for performing it were as simple as the first spell, which harry did not find too heartening. For this charm you said the incantation while pointing the wand at your heart.

After a few tries it seemed to succeed. Harry started to feel lighter and lighter, as if he were about to float away. He stayed like that for what seemed to be hours, before he suddenly returned to normal, his body feeling strangely heavy and cumbersome after being weightless for so long.

He frowned, disappointed. The book had said it would take a few tries before he started to see results, but he'd been hoping for more than just feeling too light. Oh well, he though philosophically, maybe I'll get more results next time. And at least he'd _had _a result, unlike with the first spell.

It looked like he would need to learn proper Occlumency for more than just shielding his mind, though he'd known he would have to get very good at it, or else risk blowing his whole plan to smithereens the first time a Legilimens tried to read his mind.

Harry resigned himself to more research. But not before he ate something and had a nap. He was so tired he was about to fall asleep where he stood. He quickly ate the meal the room provided and crashed down on the couch. It was so comfortable he hadn't bothered asking for a bed.

He woke up some time later. He could see that it was close to midday by the light coming from the window. Harry wondered for a moment what people were making of his absence. To them he had only been gone for the morning. Ron and Hermione might be worried but they probably wouldn't be too alarmed. They would think he went with Dumbledore or something. Unless Dumbledore already knew Harry had done a runner and told them. Harry shook his head and decided not to worry about it for now. Kreacher still hadn't returned, but Harry wasn't feeling too worried. Finding a good property was bound to take time.

Harry yawned as he got up from the couch. Even after almost six hours of sleep he was still feeling a little tired. He decided to take a quick shower to wake himself up. Harry looked down at his clothes. He didn't fancy scourgifying them again. Unless he wanted to wear Room created clothes there was only one other option.

He reluctantly accioed the clothes packages Kreacher had bought. He opened the packs, wincing as he saw all the silk robes and fancy cloaks. He noted with amusement that more than half of the clothes seemed to be in black. Kreacher seemed to have bought a full wardrobe. There were plenty of slacks and shirts and underthings mixed in with the robes and cloaks. Strangely enough all the clothes seemed to be quite large in size. Harry was quiet sure some of them could have almost fit Hagrid.

Harry supposed it didn't really matter how big they were, he could just shrink them to fit. He grabbed a pair of black slacks and a light grey silk shirt together with some underwear and left for his shower.

He discovered he didn't need to shrink the clothes after all. They immediately resized to fit him perfectly as soon as he put them on. Harry smiled in appreciation. He loved magic.

Kreacher popped in as he was walking back to his couch. He was carrying what looked like a tightly folded brochure, which he thrust at Harry as soon as appeared. "Master Harry, I have found a most wonderful house. It will need a lot of fixing but I am a good house elf. I promise to work very hard. It will make a fine seat for the House of Black," he said, bouncing on his toes.

Harry looked at him warily. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what Kreacher considered a fine 'seat for the House of Black'. Not that it really mattered what it looked like so long as he had somewhere to put Kreacher away from anyone who would try to use the elf to find him. He would have to work hard to learn the Fidelius Charm, then find a way to let Dumbledore know after he cast it. Let them think Harry was hiding behind the Fidelius. And who knew? It might turn out to be useful later. He debated with himself whether or not to sneak out to see the house now, or wait for when the potion was done.

He'd decided not to use the time-turner again until his trip back. Harry didn't know if he was just being a masochist but he wanted to see for himself how everyone reacted to the news about the discovery. Although there was always the chance that Dumbledore would be able to keep it secret. He didn't think that was going to happen though.

He unfolded the brochure. A picture of a huge old manor house took up most of the front, with a 'Welcome to Selick Hall!' emblazoned beneath it in flashing blue ink. It looked like it might have been white at one time, although now it just looked like a really dirty grey. It wasn't like anything he would have chosen, but Harry wasn't really planning on living there anyway. He turned the brochure over. 'Certified curse-free and structurally sound by Gringotts bank!" claimed the bold black print on the back. 'Over five acres of personal land, muggle-repelling, anti-apparition and other standard wards fully active, ready to be keyed to the new owner. Quidditch field in good condition. Anyone wanting to view the property may use the specially created apparition point in the garden. No need for appointments!'

There was a picture of a wild looking overgrown garden at the bottom, with a small cordoned off area in the middle. 'Apparition Point!' it said underneath the picture. The words 'Only three hundred thousand Galleons!' was at the bottom, flashing in different colours.

Harry decided to check the house. It might very well the last time he would be able to be out in public without fear of being hunted. He would still have to disguise himself though. Harry Potter was supposed to be in school after all. He frowned for a moment, before his eyes widened. "Kreacher, they sell ready made potions at the apothecaries' right?" he asked the elf. An idea had just occurred to him which would enable him to go out in public _and _let him solve the mystery that had haunted him most of the year.

"Yes Master Harry," said Kreacher, nodding his head.

"Go and see if they have Polyjuice and Veritaserum. Oh and some human hair too." Harry pulled out his pocket pouch and held it out to Kreacher.

The elf took the pouch and bowed, then popped away.

Harry cast a quick tempus. Almost lunch time. Malfoy would probably come to the Room sometime soon, considering how much time he'd been spending there all year. If he wasn't even already there that was. Strange to think the ferret might be standing in another version of the room the same time as himself. He hurried to his trunk and dug out the map.

Harry relaxed; Malfoy was in the dungeons. Hopefully he hadn't already come to the room and discovered the destroyed Cabinet. He didn't think it was too likely. He'd only destroyed the cabinet the night before in real time and mornings were usually pretty busy. Lunch time was probably the earliest time Malfoy would be able to come up. He glanced at the rest of the Map. Dumbledore didn't seem to be in residence Harry was relieved to see. Ron and Hermione were in a hallway near the great Hall. He looked away and rolled up the map before sticking it in his pocket.

He wandered around the room; idly browsing through the books and scrolls on the book shelves as he passed them while he waited for Kreacher to return. Harry supposed he didn't really need to carry out this detour on his plan, but after spending all year trailing Malfoy, and wondering what Snape was up to, this opportunity to satisfy his curiosity was just too good to pass up.

Finally he picked up a slim book titled 'Occlumency explained' and settled down to read on the couch.

_Occlumency, at its most basic form, is the ability to clear one's mind of thought and emotion. This will protect the practitioner's thoughts, but it still leaves them vulnerable to mental attacks designed to wound or destroy the mind, as they will be unable to do anything else at this stage. Thus the next step of Occlumency is to learn how to shield the mind. The most common way to do this is to enter the mindscape through meditation, or the use of certain potions, where you can then start the process of building your shields. Someone who learns how to do both can be said to have mastered Occlumency._

_However, to truly master Occlumency one would need to have complete control of their mind, __the ability to lock away thoughts and emotions, to pick and choose which memories they allow to show, to fabricate false memories. At the highest level of Occlumency one would have such complete control over their mind; they would be able to literally walk over a fire and make themselves feel nothing. _

_The practitioner of Occlumency who reaches this last level must be extremely careful of how they put their mastery to use. Master __Occlumens__ have been known to die of starvation because they forgot they locked away their hunger. It is not only the physical one must be careful of. There was once a Master __Occlumens__ who locked away his anger for many years, until it built to the point he could no longer lock it away. He snapped, and killed over 300 people before he was stopped. There are many more reports of incidents like this perpetrated by __Occlumens who misused their abilities._

Harry stopped reading, and a feeling of unease came over him. He had not thought much about the emotions he'd locked away, feeling too relieved over their absence. He'd been hoping he would never have to face them again. He tugged on his ear in agitation as he thought. After a few minutes he decided to keep them locked up. It wasn't like he was planning on making a habit of doing it. He would just have to be careful from now on.

Though it was strange that the book called locking away emotions an advanced part of Occlumency. He hadn't even learned how to do the part it called basic: The ability to clear one's mind of thoughts and emotions. Harry scowled as he remembered Snape's oft repeated order to "Clear your mind, Potter". It seemed the greasy bat hadn't just been trying to make it harder for him. Although he'd never actually gotten around to telling Harry how you went about clearing your mind. He grimaced at himself. Why had it never occurred to him to find out how to do it by himself?

His mouth tightened as he remembered why. He had not wanted to learn Occlumency; he'd been much more interested in finding out what his dreams meant. Harry turned back to the book before his mind could continue that train of thought.

He was glad to note it listed several methods of learning how to clear the mind and that they did not look too hard to do. Snape had told him Occlumency required the same strength of will required to resist the Imperius Curse and he'd always been pretty good at doing that at least. He flipped through the rest of the book, it was filled mainly with exercises on how to learn the various stages of Occlumency.

About half an hour later Kreacher returned. Harry turned to him at once. "Were you able to get them?" he asked.

"Yes, Master," Kreacher replied, and handed him a small cloth bag. Harry opened the bag and looked inside; it was filled with several potion filled glass bottles and a small glass container with several strands of blond hair. He recognized the Polyjuice and the Veritaserum straightaway.

"They were wanting a lot of money for it," Kreacher said anxiously.

"Never mind that," replied Harry. "It's worth it." Harry hesitated for a moment. He had an awful lot of things in the room, and while it would probably be still there even if he left, there was no point in taking chances. He smiled tensely at Kreacher. "There is something I need to do, it won't take long. I want you to stay here until I get back. Get the money for the house ready while I'm gone."

"Yes Master Harry" said Kreacher and tottered of to the trunk.

He checked the Map again. Malfoy was still in the dungeons, but Harry was sure he would soon make his way to the Room in order carry on with his task, as he'd been doing since the start of the school year. Harry quickly decided to wait in the Room for Malfoy, instead of trying to get in afterwards. He wouldn't be able to get in if Malfoy made the room unfindable.

He pulled out one of the hairs in the glass container and dropped it into one of the Polyjuice filled vials. It immediately turned an orangey brown colour. Harry took a deep breath, then took a swig of the potion, trying not to gag as he did so.

At once a burning sensation rushed through his body, and he felt his skin bubble and stretch as he changed rapidly into the image of whoever it was whose hair he had.

It seemed to go much faster than he remembered from second year. A mirror appeared on the nearest wall as he wondered what he looked like. A blurry shape appeared on the picture, and Harry took of his glasses and stuffed them in his pocket, before looking at the mirror again. A blond haired, broad faced man who looked to be in his early twenties looked back at him, his cloudy blue eyes looking vaguely startled.

Harry grinned, and the stranger in the mirror grinned back at him. He put the pouch back in his pocket, and placed the cloth bag inside his satchel. He shrugged his shoulders to settle his clothes; whoever this body belonged to seemed to be roughly the same size as him thankfully. He waved at Kreacher, who was watching him with wide eyes from his place by the trunk.

Harry pulled on his invisibility cloak and exited the room. He waited for the door to disappear before quickly walking up and down, concentrating on the image of the room as it had appeared in the first night he'd arrived there.

It appeared at last and Harry walked in, shutting the door behind him quietly. He looked around; nothing had changed since he'd been in there last. Harry rolled his eyes at himself. Of course it hadn't, it had been less than a day after all.

Harry waited impatiently for Malfoy to show up. He got out the bottle of Polyjuice potion and put it in his pocket, ready to use in case he needed more time.

Malfoy showed up at last, just as Harry was starting to think about topping up his Polyjuice. Harry watched him covertly from behind his invisibility cloak and got his wand ready. Malfoy looked terrible, his face grey and terribly thin. Harry stood up quietly and followed Malfoy as the latter made his way to where the Cabinet used to stand.

Harry watched as Malfoy looked at the empty space, now only filled with the broken wooden shards of what had once been the cabinet. Malfoy was rooted to the spot, his face had gone chalk-white, and his body had started to shake.

Harry almost felt sorry for him, but not enough to cancel his plan. He lifted his wand and stunned the shaking Malfoy with a quiet stupefy. The stunned blond fell to the floor with a thud.

Harry crouched down next to him, then got out one of the Veritaserum bottles. He carefully put three drops of the truth potion down Malfoy's open mouth_**. **_He pointed his wand at Malfoy._** "**__**Gluttio**_" he said. The unconscious boy swallowed at once.

Harry stood up, then rennervated him. Malfoy stirred, but he didn't get up. His face was slack and his eyes looked glazed.

"Malfoy, tell me about your task" Harry told him.

Malfoy shuddered, and then spoke in a flat voice. "I am to kill Headmaster Dumbledore".

Harry sat back on his heels. He wasn't sure what to feel. His feelings about Dumbledore were muted now, but he could still remember the overwhelming betrayal he'd felt. He chewed his lip, then spoke to Malfoy again.

"What were you doing with the cabinet?" he asked.

"There is a cabinet in the apothecaries at Knockturn Alley that is linked with the one that was here", came Malfoy's flat voice. "I was fixing it so that it could be used as a way into Hogwarts."

Harry's eyes widened. "I see" he breathed. "Good thing I destroyed it then." Malfoy did not reply, as it had not been a question.

"What's up with you and Snape?" asked Harry.

"Snape promised my mother to help me with my task," replied Malfoy. "He swore the unbreakable oath that he would carry out my task if I couldn't do it."

"I knew it!" shouted Harry, jumping up. "I knew that slimy bastard wasn't really on our side." Harry stopped, and stared at nothing for a few seconds. "Well, I knew he wasn't on Dumbledore's side," he corrected himself with a twisted smile.

Harry frowned down at Malfoy. "What have you already tried?" he asked.

"I put a Gryffindor girl under the Imperius and gave her a cursed necklace to give to Dumbledore but it didn't work. Then I put Madam Rosmerta under the Imperius and had her send poisoned mead to Slughorn. He was supposed to give it to Dumbledore."

Harry's hand clenched tight around his wand, and his eyes narrowed. So Malfoy had been the one who'd almost got Ron Killed. For a moment he was hit with the almost overwhelming desire to crucio him senseless. He bit it back, but only because he wanted more information out of him.

Harry forced himself to take a deep breath. "What are you planning on doing now?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"I must think of a new way to kill Dumbledore" said Malfoy, his eyelids flickering.

Harry's lip curled in disgust. "Can't wait to start being a good little murderer eh Malfoy?" he said.

"I don't want to kill anyone" came Malfoy's flat voice.

Harry scowled. "What do you call what your doing then Malfoy?" he said in a rough voice.

"I don't want to kill anyone but I have no choice. The Dark Lord is going to kill me and my parents if I don't kill Dumbledore." Malfoy's fear was visible even through the Veritaserum induced blankness.

Harry stood up and frowned down at Malfoy, half in disgust and half in reluctant pity.

He paced up and down for a few moments in thought. Malfoy lay motionless where he left him.

"Snape is only supposed to take over if you fail, right?" he asked him a few minutes later.

"Yes," came the reply.

"Do you have a time limit?"

"Until the end of the school year, Dumbledore must be dead by then."

Harry took a deep breath, and focused all his attention on Malfoy. "Imperio" he said in a clear voice."

Malfoy blinked, but did not otherwise do anything.

"This is what you are going to do," said Harry in a firm voice.

"You are not going to kill or try to kill anyone. You will think of ways to kill Dumbledore, but you will not carry any of them out. If anyone asks, tell them you are working on it. Do not tell Snape you are not going to kill Dumbledore." He paused and looked carefully at Malfoy.

"Do you understand?" he said to him.

"Yes"

"OK," said Harry. "Stay here for another hour, then go to your dormitory and go to sleep, tell anyone who asks that you are feeling a little ill, but not enough to go the hospital wing."

Harry bit his lip for a moment, then sighed. He'd been warning people all year about Malfoy and Snape. Hopefully what he'd just done would keep Malfoy at least in check. And he was most certainly not responsible for Dumbledore's safety. Harry's mouth tightened and he turned and stalked out of the room without a backwards glance at the motionless figure still lying on the ground.

He quickly made his room appear, and went in to find Kreacher sitting on the floor near the trunk, Harry's pocket pouch in his hand. Harry pulled the hood of his cloak down to talk to him.

"I have the money Master Harry," said Kreacher, bouncing in his excitement.

Harry took the pouch. "All of it?" he said with a raised eyebrow.

"It's a bottomless pouch Master Harry," said the elf, big eyes blinking rapidly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course it is," he muttered.

He pulled out the brochure from his pocket and stared at the apparition point for a few minutes, trying to fix it in his memory.

"OK Kreacher," said Harry. "I am going to check the house now. Wait here for me, if all goes well, you will have a new house to look after soon."

Kreacher's eyes gleamed. "Yes, Master Harry!" he said.

Harry pulled out the vial of Polyjuice and took another gulp to top up his disguise. He made sure the cloak covered him completely and took out the Map. He left the room, watching the Map carefully to make sure he didn't run into anyone. More and more people were starting to come in to the hallways, but Harry managed to get to the secret passage on the third floor corridor leading to Honeydukes without any trouble.

He carefully tucked the Map in his pocket, and then looked up and down the corridor to make sure it was empty. He was just about to open the secret passage when a group of Gryffindor girls he vaguely recognized walked into the hallway. Harry flattened himself against the wall and waited for them to pass. He was not all that surprised to find they were talking about him. He recognised them now; it was Romilda Vane, the pushy fourth-year and her band of giggling friends.

She was scowling and speaking in an angry whisper. "All that hard work ruined! Worse than ruined. I can't believe Ginny Weasely is going to benefit from it when she hasn't even tried to do anything."

One of her friends interrupted her in a soothing voice. "But Rommie, you don't know if it worked. You know Harry Potter can resist the Imperius curse, he's so strong. Maybe it just didn't work."

Harry was starting to get a really bad feeling as he listened to the girls talk.

Whatever they were talking about, Romilda was having none of it. "Oh it worked," she was saying in a savage voice. "I saw it with my own eyes. I saw him looking at her when the potion activated. I saw his face. I can't believe I spent all that money and now Weasely is going to get the benefit. It should have been me. I was the one who managed to get him to take the potion without him knowing. He's going to ask her out soon, I know he will."

Her friend took her hand and tried to console her. "Oh Rommie, don't worry, the potion doesn't last that long, it will leave his system soon, then you can try again."

Romilda shook her head. "By then they will be going out, she's one of his friends, I bet he's not going to dump her anytime soon!" She burst out crying and ran off, her gaggle of friends following after.

Harry stared after them, a sick feeling growing in his stomach. If they were talking about what he thought they were...

He tried to remember back to the first time he'd realised he liked Ginny _that_ way. He'd considered her a friend since the year before, and she'd hung out with him and Ron and Hermione during the summer, but he didn't remember liking her as anything more than a friend back then.

No. Harry's eye widened as he remembered. It had been after Dean's first Quidditch practice, he and Ron had come across Ginny and Dean kissing in one of the side corridors and....

It had been as if a monster had suddenly erupted into life in his stomach, a sort of madness had seemed to come over him, and he'd barely managed to stop himself from attacking Dean for kissing Ginny.

Harry shook his head in disbelief. He'd been stopping himself from thinking of anything to do with his old life, and that had included Ginny. He'd only let himself feel relief that he hadn't actually spoken to Ginny about his feelings. To find out now that his feelings had not even been real....

Harry let himself think deliberately about Ginny. How did he really feel about her? She was a loyal friend, and had helped him more than once. She was very pretty and a lot of fun, she was a good dueller, she liked Quidditch, he liked spending time with her but did all that mean he actually loved her?

He'd assumed it did, but...he didn't actually know what love felt like. Harry shook his head again and decided not to think about it. The whole question was moot now anyway. Ginny was out of his life forever.

Mouth set in a firm line; he took out his wand, and tapped on the one eyed crone's statue. "_Dissendium_," he whispered, and it swung open to reveal the narrow entrance. Harry squeezed through carefully, then closed the entrance before sliding down the stone slide.

He walked for half an hour through the twisting tunnels, being careful not to fall on the uneven ground. He stopped at last; sure he had long since passed beyond the range of Hogwarts wards. He cast lumos and looked around closely to make sure he would remember the spot for later then took of his cloak and stuffed it in his pocket.

Harry took a deep breath to settle himself. This was going to be his first real apparition, and it was going to be a place he had never been to. He had to get it right the first time. He concentrated on the picture of the garden with all his might, and when he felt he could almost see it, he squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to apparate. At once he felt himself being squeezed horribly from all sides before the sensation disappeared abruptly and he opened his eyes to find himself in the very garden he'd been picturing.

Harry sighed in relief; he'd made it safely with all body parts intact. He looked around curiously. It was like standing in the middle of a small jungle; it was totally overrun with huge, deep rooted weeds almost higher than his head, overgrown trees with dead branches, old mulch and overgrown ivy all over the place. In fact, the only clear space was where he was standing. The big old manor was right in front of him, the shining sun making its dirty grey walls appear even filthier than it had seemed in the picture. The large wooden front door was clearly visible from where he stood, old and peeling and looking as if it was about to fall down.

Harry walked gingerly through the overgrown mess, extremely grateful he wasn't going to be the one to tidy it up. It had been bad enough working on the Dursley's garden when he was younger, and that garden had never looked like this at its worst. He could see a piece of parchment stuck on the door as he approached.

'Welcome To Selick Hall!' it announced in the same flashing blue ink as the brochure.

'Potential buyers may go through to view the property. Please note, the magical signatures of anyone who enters will be recorded for security reasons. If you decide you wish to buy the property please tap once on the parchment with your wand and a sales representative will be with you shortly.

Ironfang, Gringotts Bank'

Harry frowned at the parchment. He had no intention of letting his magical signature be recorded. He hesitated for a moment, not liking the idea of buying something he couldn't see. On the other hand, Gringotts prided themselves on their reputation, and they were the ones selling the property. Harry shrugged and tapped once on the parchment. It glowed briefly, then returned to its normal state.

Just a few seconds later, the crack of an apparition came from the garden. Harry turned around to see a tall brown haired wizard in flamboyant wizarding robes picking his way through the garden.

He hailed Harry from half way down the garden. "You the buyer?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, looking around pointedly.

The man laughed in a good natured way, his dark brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yes, yes, I know, why else would you be here?" he held out his hand. "Nigel Ross, Gringotts sales representative."

Harry shook his hand, thinking fast. _Why didn't you think of a name stupid_, he thought to himself with a mental grimace. "Jonathan Grey, prospective buyer," he said, smiling at Ross and trying to hide his relief in coming up with a normal sounding name. For a moment all he'd been able to think of was Roonil wazlib, the name Fred and George's Spell-Check quill had come up with when the charm wore off.

Ross smiled back. "Excellent, have you looked around yet? I know it doesn't look like much at the moment, but it just needs a little tender care. You getting married?"

"What?" asked Harry, startled. The other wizard grinned at him, his white teeth flashing in the sunlight.

Harry was starting to get the feeling Ross was one of those perpetually cheerful people. And really, who would wear striped blue, yellow and white robes?

"Well it's not often a young wizard age of your age would want to buy a property of this size, unless he's planning on starting a family", said Ross.

"I like big spaces" said Harry vaguely. "I didn't know Gringotts sold houses?"

"They do sometimes, if a client requests it" Ross rocked back on his heels, a business like expression on his face. "I take it you are ready to buy then?"

Harry nodded. "Do we need to go to the bank? I am in a bit of a hurry." He really hoped not. The longer he was out of Hogwarts, the more chance of things going wrong. He wanted to be back in the Room as soon as possible.

"No, no," Ross produced a sheaf of official looking papers from somewhere. "I have everything here. You have your Gringotts Key, I take it?"

"No," said Harry, "but I have the money." He held up his pouch.

Ross raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He took out his wand and tapped on the pouch. "Great," he said, smiling at harry. "We should be done in a jiffy then."

He waved his wand and conjured a table and two chairs. "Might as well be comfortable."

They each took a seat at the table and Ross pulled out two quills and an inkwell, before proceeding to write something on each piece of paper and then pushing them across to Harry. "Read that, and sign at the end of each paper," He cocked an eyebrow at Harry. "I assume you know this is a binding magical contract?" he said to him. "As soon as you sign and give me the money it will activate, and the wards will transfer over to you."

Harry nodded, although he hadn't known. He was just winging everything and was quite relieved to see it was working. Harry looked down at the stack, wincing, why did they need that many copies? He picked up the first one and started reading. It was a Bill of Sale.

_For the sum of three hundred thousand Galleons (300,000) Gringotts Bank, trustees of Selick Hall, hereby convey to Jonathan Grey full ownership of Selick__ Hall__._

It had three signatures on it already, Ross's name, which was still wet, a goblin name and someone called A Selick. Harry assumed the last one was the seller.

He started signing. "Why do you need so many copies?" He asked Ross.

Ross chuckled. "All first time buyers ask that," he said. "Three of the copies are yours, three for the ministry, three for the bank and three for the seller. We live in a bureaucracy kid."

Harry finally finished, being careful to keep his signatures the same, and pushed the papers back to Ross. Ross took them and checked all of them, then separated out three and handed them back to Harry.

"Excellent!" he said, a pleased smile spreading across his face and pulled out a pouch that looked identical to Harry's one. "Here," he said to Harry. "Easier to swap than to transfer all that gold. It's the same pouch as yours."

They swapped, and Harry saw all the contracts glow white for a moment; at the same time, he felt something touch him, a brief feeling of warmth that quickly went away.

Ross jumped up and held out his hand; Harry stood up to take it. "A pleasure doing business with you, Jonathan Grey. All Gringotts security wards have been removed, only the house wards are active now. Good luck." he waved and disapparated without another word.

Harry blinked after him, then looked around. He could see how Selick Hall could be a nice place to live after a lot of work, but right now it was a dirty, gloomy mess, uninviting in every way and Harry didn't feel like exploring it at all. Kreacher seemed to like it though. Hopefully the little elf could actually make it liveable again. His first priority was to find out how to make the Fidelius charm. With one last look at the house, Harry too disapparated.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed! :)


	5. The Execution Part 2

Harry appeared in the tunnel with a loud crack, and cast lumos to provide himself with light. He started back towards Hogwarts, wondering absently why some people made a loud crack when apparating and others barely made a sound. He made a mental note to find out. And to get something to keep notes on. The amount of things he needed to learn seemed to be growing by the day and he didn't want to miss something that would come back to haunt him later.

He was halfway to Hogwarts when he felt the Polyjuice leave his system. The sale of the house had literally taken minutes. He put on his invisibility cloak as he neared the entrance and got out the marauder's map. Harry was relieved to see Malfoy was in the dungeons. He'd never cast the Imperius Curse before and he'd been worrying in the back of his head whether it had held. The Map showed most of the students were back in the classrooms and Dumbledore was _still_ absent. Maybe he'd already found out Harry had left?

He scrambled up the slide and slipped through the secret entrance, then made his way quickly to the seventh floor and the Room of Requirement. Kreacher was still sitting by the trunk, looking bored.

He jumped up and bowed when Harry entered. "Master Harry, welcome back," he squeaked, eyes brightening.

Harry smiled at him. "Hi Kreacher, I have a few errands for you to run, and then you can go to Selick Hall. It is ours now," he said.

The smile that broke over Kreacher's face dwarfed any Harry had seen on him before. "Thank you Master Harry! Thank you!" he said, throwing himself at Harry and hugging his knees hard for a moment, before he drew back, embarrassed, though the happiness did not fade from his face. "What can I get for you Master Harry?" he asked.

"Some more Polyjuice and I need writing supplies, maybe some kind of planner. And you need to buy cleaning supplies and stuff for the house." He tossed his pouch to Kreacher. "This is empty, get some more out of the trunk," he said.

"At once, Master Harry," said Kreacher, then bowed and got some money out of the trunk before flashing away.

Harry looked around the room again. It had become very familiar over the last couple of days, and while it beat his room at number four, Privet Drive hands down, he couldn't wait until he no longer had to hide in it.

The rumbling of his stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten since he woke up and he walked over to the couch, asking the room mentally for a quick lunch. A silver tray full of sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice appeared on the table by the couch. He sat down and started to eat, mentally reviewing in his head the list of things he needed to do. First was to learn the Fidelius Charm.

Harry really hoped it wasn't going to be too difficult, but he wasn't counting on it. A lot more people would have used it during the war if it was an easy to cast charm. It only took him a few minutes to finish his lunch, and he got up to wash, the remains of his lunch vanishing away as soon as he stood up.

A thin book bound in dark brown leather was waiting on the couch when he came back. A wry smile crossed his face. Back to the grindstone. He collapsed back on the couch and grabbed the book. 'The Fidelius Charm' said the cover simply. Harry started reading and soon lost himself in the book. It was more of a biography than anything else, detailing the life of the wizard who had come up with it. The crack of Kreacher's return interrupted him briefly.

He nodded distractedly at the elf. Kreacher, seeing his Master was busy, simply bowed and laid his purchases on the table before flashing away again.

Harry hardly noticed. Several hours later and Harry had finished the book and discovered it was going to be every bit as difficult as he'd thought it would be. For one thing it required the caster to be familiar with Arithmancy and Runes. Harry had never so much as opened a book about Arithmancy or Runes in his life.

Luckily for him, the book showed very clear diagrams on the charm, so he would be able to get by on copying the Runes he needed for the Fidelius off the book and learn how to carve the required runes using them as reference. He would also need the exact measurements of the house in order to use the Arithmancy charts provided by the book to work out where to carve the runes to bind the Fidelius charm in place, but that seemed enough like basic maths for him to work out what to do.

It was a pity he'd been more interested in having fun than learning when he was thirteen. It would have made this so much easier if he'd taken the harder classes with Hermione. He sighed and tried to recall the primary school maths he'd once learnt. Hogwarts had made him forget, but he'd actually liked maths back then. Art too; hopefully that would translate well into 'carving' these runes.

Harry stood up and stretched. If he was lucky it wouldn't take that long to master the charm. The golden sunlight streaming in through the windows showed it to be late afternoon. If he managed to learn the charm he might even be able to go back and cast it tonight.

'_I need something to practice carving runes' _he said to the room mentally. An array of knives and chisels and what looked like slabs of concrete and wooden boards of various sizes appeared in the middle of the room. They ranged in size from some barely bigger than his hand to some bigger than his whole body.

His eyebrows rose in surprise and he walked over to inspect them. The knives and chisels were all made of different materials. He could see iron and silver, gold and obsidian, and some were made of materials he didn't recognize. There was a stack of what seemed to be some kind of oddly shaped pencils near them, along with a sheaf of parchment.

The wooden boards and stone slabs too, were all of different kinds. A large book covered with dark green leather lay on the ground next to them. 'A beginner's guide to carving runes' was written across it in large golden letters.

Harry had the feeling this was going to be even harder than he'd originally thought. He sighed and sat on the floor then picked up the book. It was filled with drawings of runes in various stages of completion.

He spent the next few hours following the exercises laid out in the book, drawing lines and shapes, and the simpler runes. He didn't stop until his hand started to cramp. He decided to take a break when that happened and went over the various used parchments. He could tell that he'd definitely improved since he started a few hours ago, but he was still nowhere near ready enough to start learning the real carving.

Harry bit his lip as he wondered whether to break his self imposed no time-travel rule. He had just over a week until the potion was complete. In that time he had to do more research on his soul situation, and start learning Occlumency for real. Learning to carve Runes looked as if it would take at least a few days of practice. By then his disappearance would be widely known, even if Dumbledore managed to keep the Potters hidden. He wouldn't be able to sneak out as easily as he'd done earlier.

In the end Harry decided to go back for two days. He called Kreacher, who arrived looking as if he'd been rolling in dust, and told him that he would be back in one minute and to look after his stuff while he was gone, then he slipped out of the room wrapped up in his cloak. He turned the sun knob on the time turner twice, and was whisked off in the familiar swirl of chaotic colour and sound.

Harry made sure to ask the room for an uninhabited room similar to the one he'd been using available only to the him of now. He didn't want to run into his earlier self. With his luck he would probably end up killing himself.

Harry spent the next two days obsessively learning how to draw and then carve the runes. He stopped only to eat, bathe, sleep and rest his wrist when it became too sore to use. At the end of the two days he was cautiously optimistic that he would be able to successfully carve the runes for the Fidelius.

Harry timed himself to leave the room a few minutes before his earlier self arrived. He made sure the cloak covered him completely and waited in the corridor. A few minutes later the door to the room opened and then closed. Harry could hear his earlier self walking up and down the corridor, then a new door appeared, which was quickly opened and closed in turn.

As soon as the door disappeared, Harry quickly made his room appear, and slipped in. Kreacher was standing in the same spot as he'd left him. Harry pulled off his cloak and smiled at him. "Hello Kreacher, how's the house?" he asked.

"Hello Master Harry, the house is wonderful! I am working hard to make it ready," replied Kreacher, beaming.

"That's great Kreacher," said Harry. "I need you to go shopping again. A Rune carving kit, make sure it has a good quality iron knife."

"Yes Master Harry," said Kreacher and popped away. Harry wondered idly just how much money he'd spent so far. Not that it really mattered. It would hardly make a dent in the Black family fortune and Sirius wouldn't have cared about how much he spent. A shadow crossed his face as he remembered his godfather.

Harry sighed sadly before he bought his mind back to the present. He knew how to carve the runes now, but he still needed to work out where to carve them exactly. He walked over to the table by the couch and picked up one of the pieces of parchment and the ink brought by Kreacher, then sank down on the couch and asked the room for the book with the Fidelius charm. It materialized on the table and Harry opened it up to the page with the Arithmancy charts. He quickly copied them out onto the piece of parchment. Harry frowned again as he suddenly realized he would have to find a way to completely measure the house before he would be able to work out where to carve the runes. He bit his lip, thinking.

Hopefully there was some kind of spell.... A wide book with a dark grey cover shimmered into view on the table, already open to the middle of the book. '_Modus amplitudo:_ A spell for finding out the size of things' read the top of the page. Harry shook his head. It was going to be strange living in the normal world after life in the room. He couldn't wait.

He spent the time while waiting for Kreacher in practicing the spell and preparing another dose of the Polyjuice potion. He didn't need to wait long; Kreacher was back in less than half an hour, carrying a small bag.

"Here you go Master Harry," he said, handing the bag to him.

Harry took the bag and peaked at the contents. He saw what looked to be a top quality runic kit before he closed it again and smiled at Kreacher in thanks.

"I'll be back soon, Kreacher, then you can go back to the house," he told him. He waited for Kreacher's acknowledgement before he took a swig of the Polyjuice. An unpleasant moment later, he was back to being a blue eyed blond. He took a minute to check the map, but everyone seemed to be in their dorms. It was night after all. Thankfully there were no patrolling teachers on his route. Harry hung the bag from his shoulder and put the hood of his cloak back on before he left the room and made his way to the secret passage once more.

It hardly seemed to take any time at all before he found himself back in the overgrown jungle of a garden in front of the house. It looked even worse in the darkness. Harry quietly cast lumos and walked carefully to the front door. He took a deep breath and raised his wand. "_Modus amplitudo_".

A bit like the tempus charm, glowing red numbers and words floated in front of him, showing all the measurements of the house. The easy part was over.

Harry sank cross legged to the floor and pulled out the parchment with the Arithmancy charts. A hair pulling, sweaty hour later, he had managed to work out where the runes needed to go. A total of twenty-eight places; twenty-three scattered across the perimeter of the house, and five places inside the house itself.

Harry got off the floor and dusted himself, wondering what had possessed him to try this at night. _Because you're a fugitive, stupid_ he said to himself. He walked to the first spot, which was only a few steps away, right by the front door. He opened the bag and opened up the kit. He was relieved to see the funny shaped pencils were included.

He started by drawing the rune very carefully on the stone doorstep, and then used an iron knife to carve it out. He held his breath as he used his wand to tap it once. The rune glowed and then sank into the stone, leaving no trace. He breathed out in relief. One down, twenty-seven to go. He made his way all around the outside of the house, using his wand as a torch to find the places he needed to place the runes. Finally he was done with the outside and only the five runes for the inside of the house were left to do.

It had been an exhausting task that had left him wishing he'd told Kreacher to buy a small hut. That would have only required five runes. He shoved open the door and looked around curiously by the light of his wand. The door had opened to a rather large entrance hall with a grand staircase leading upwards.

The house was completely empty of any furnishings, it was all big airy rooms, grime covered walls and dusty floors. He could see where Kreacher had started cleaning, the contrast to the rest of the filthy house was obvious. He was glad Kreacher had his magic to help him, it would have made him feel very guilty if the elf had had to do all the cleaning by hand.

He quickly found the five places where he had to carve the rest of the runes. One each at the four cardinal points of the house and the last one at the very centre of the house. Finally finished, Harry returned to Hogwarts feeling absolutely knackered. He told Kreacher he could go back to the house and reminded him to get enough rest; Harry had the feeling Kreacher would work himself to death if he wasn't stopped. Feeling too tired to eat; Harry took a quick shower to wash of the grime from the house and crashed on the couch after setting an alarm for dawn.

He slept right through the night, only waking when the alarm sounded at dawn. He got up and brushed his teeth and washed his face in cold water to wake him up before going to the little potions lab in the corner of the room. The potion was bubbling mildly, gentle stream rising from its rose coloured surface.

He opened the packet of Chrysanthemum petals and counted out two piles of forty-nine petals, then added a petal to the potion, picked up the waiting ladle and stirred once clockwise. He did that for each petal, then started on the second pile, this time stirring the other way after the addition of each petal. The potion turned a shade lighter after the last stir. Harry washed the ladle and returned it to its place for the next time.

He discovered he was feeling ravenous and had the room prepare him a hearty Hogwarts breakfast. By his count it had been just over four days since he found out about the reality of what he was, although only one full day had passed in normal time. His disappearance had to be have been noticed by everyone now. Harry wondered what people were thinking. Had they found out why he'd run? Or did they think he'd been kidnapped by Voldemort or his forces? He supposed it depended on whether the Potters stayed hidden or not.

A feeling of guilt had been growing in him over the way he'd just disappeared without telling his friends why. They had to be worried sick. He'd been trying to ignore it but the fact was if this had happened to anyone of them Harry was sure he would have stood by them. And furious if they had just left without any word. Perhaps his friends couldn't help him, but he owed it to them to at least tell them why he'd done a runner.

Harry stared grimly at his hands. He really didn't want to contact his friends. He didn't know if he could take it if they rejected him as something nonhuman that needed to be destroyed. He himself was hiding from that fact by locking away all emotions connected with it, but they wouldn't have that option. Would they really be able to see him as Harry their friend, when he couldn't even face the fact of what he was himself?

After a few minutes of grim reflection he decided he would have to wait for a few days before he did anything about his friends. He needed to know what the public information on him was first. He wasn't going to lie to them, Harry promised himself. Acceptance based on lies was not going to do him any good anyway.

Harry quickly got into a routine of studying Occlumency and practicing _Seorsum__ Animus__, _the charm for separating the consciousness from the body and _Expositus Penetralis, _the charm that let someone use _OtherSense_ or second sight without training, although he wanted to train himself to use it without the charm eventually. It sounded really useful. According to the book he found the charm in someone with a good enough mastery of _OtherSense _would be able to literally see the flows of magic.

Every day he got up at dawn, washed up, added the petals to the potion, had breakfast then practiced the beginner exercises he'd found in 'Occlumency explained' until lunch time. After three days of this he learned how to clear his mind of all thought and emotion instantly. At first he found it hard to maintain the blankness but the more he practiced the easier it got to bring his mind under control. The part he had the most difficulty with was actually being able to do anything other than just stand there like a lump while keeping his mind blank, but in the end he got the hang of being able to act while keeping his mind free of any thoughts.

After lunch, he practiced the two charms he found in the book on Soul Magic, _Seorsum__ Animus _and_ Expositus Penetralis._ Strangely enough Harry had a much easier time of practicing the _Seorsum__ Animus_ than the other one_, _although the book had said it would be the other way round.

In fact, Harry was starting to feel strangely alarmed by just how easy he found it to separate his consciousness from his body. He didn't know whether it was because in a sense he'd already been doing this every time he had taken a trip into Voldemort's head or because of something more sinister. Even _more_ sinister, he amended to himself. He'd actually become so good at leaving his body that after only two days of practicing the charm, he found that he didn't need to use it at all, and that he could do it by simply willing himself to leave his body.

He'd actually discovered this during one of his Occlumency exercises and it had almost scared him into a heart attack. It took him a while to find his way back into his body after that first time, mainly because there was absolutely nothing to see except dark grey mist everywhere he looked, and it had taken a lot of courage to start learning how to do it properly after that. He'd had nightmares of floating away from his body in his sleep and never being able to find it again.

Of course after a while he'd discovered that wasn't going to happen. Although he couldn't see anything, he could sense somewhat dimly that there was something in the darkness that connected him to his body no matter how far he floated away. There seemed to be some kind of barrier that prevented him from following the connection back to his body that way however. Willing himself back to his body worked fine, so it didn't bother him too much. After some time trying to determine what the connection was he it was he concluded it had to be his magic. That was what it felt like anyway. He hadn't realized before that his magic had a 'taste' so to speak. He'd cast some spells after that discovery and was able to sense his magic in the spells every time. Now if he could actually see anything but grey mist while outside his body it might have been more interesting.

As if to make up for his progress in Occlumency and the ease in which he'd learnt how to leave his body, he found the _Expositus Penetralis _charm impossible to cast. His discovery of being able to sense his magic had briefly excited him, and given him hope that he would be able to figure out how to awaken his _OtherSense_, but his hopes had been dashed. By the time three days had passed he was almost ready to give up on it, and would have if it hadn't been for the fact that he needed to learn it in order to see his soul for himself. Only a feeling of great strain and a severe headache came of all his efforts to cast it. He had taken to having the room provide a pain relief potion after every session just so he would be able to function.

Dusk always found him feeling dispirited and tired after the fruitless hours spent trying to master the _Expositus Penetralis._ He usually missed eating dinner and just crashed in the couch to sleep after adding the petals to the potion until the following dawn, where he started the cycle all over again.

At the end of the third day, he deviated from his usual pattern. After he added the petals to the potion, which was the colour of palest pink at this stage, he asked the room to provide him with the copies of the Daily Prophet from the last four days.

He sat on his couch, and watched as the newspapers materialized on the table. His hands were sweating, and he swallowed repeatedly. He felt as if he was going to be sick, and this was before he even saw the headlines. Harry tried to convince himself that it was unlikely the newspapers had already discovered the Potters, that it had only been four days.

There was no doubt he would be in the papers, considering the wizarding community's obsession with the boy who lived, but perhaps they would just be reporting on his disappearance, and nothing about the Potters. Harry tried very hard to make himself believe that, then he carefully blanked his mind, took a deep breath and spread the newspapers out in front of him.

'**Boy-who-lived a fake!**' Screamed the first headline he saw. **'Boy-who-lived not a real person!'** said the second. '**The snake in our midst: the so called Boy-who-lived'** was the third. He stopped reading the headlines and still keeping his mind blanked of all emotion, chose one of the articles to read.

'_Shocking news emerged this morning of a most horrifying deception that has been carried out on this community. It emerged last night, that the Boy-Who-Lived is not a boy at all, but a construct created by James and Lily Potter as a decoy for their son. _

_The Potters had been informed of a prophecy that foretold their son as the Chosen One who would defeat You-Know-Who, and they had wisely gone into hiding. Luckily for them, the decoy worked. When You-Know-Who attacked them they were able to escape while he was busy trying to kill the construct. Well, we all know what happened next. Or we thought we did. _

_We have spent the last fifteen years thinking that Harry Potter was a real boy, one who actually managed to survive the killing curse. In light of this news, it is now obvious that this was of course incorrect. The killing curse did not work on the boy we know as Harry Potter, not because of his power, but because he was never alive in the first place! _

_We were so relieved at the end of the war we ignored our own common sense and allowed ourselves to believe that a normal baby wizard had actually been able to survive the unsurvivable. And yet, even a construct of flesh and blood such as the baby golem should have been destroyed by the killing curse. Why wasn't it? This reporter has managed to find out, and it is a most chilling discovery. _

_The golem survived, because on the night You-Know-Who lost his first body; a piece of his soul was separated and attached itself to the golem! This allowed it to grow into a pseudo human, which managed to fool everyone into thinking it was a real person. In conclusion, not only is the so-called boy who lived not even a human, it is a dangerous construct which houses a part of You-Know-who. _

_As was obvious, when the Potters came back and the construct realized it was found out, it straight away went to ground. What else could we expect from something that is filled with such Dark Magic? For the sake of all our children, this construct must be immediately found and destroyed. Anyone who sees the construct is urged to call the Aurors at once. Do not under any circumstances approach it yourself!'_

_(For details on what happened to the Potters all those years ago, turn to page three)_

Harry asked the room to vanish the newspapers and sat still and silent on the couch.

So. Now he knew. His mouth twisted. It. There was nothing lower they could have called him than that. He had spent days dreading the reaction of people when they found out, and the fact that it was every bit as bad as he'd known it would be was a strange relief.

At least he had faced reality, and had not been stupid enough to think that they would actually accept him. At least now he knew for sure there was never going to be any chance for him to stay as he was. Perhaps those few who had been his friends, those he had considered his surrogate family would not condemn him as a nonperson, a dangerous dark object to be destroyed.

Sirius, the first person he had ever lost. Ron, his almost brother, who, although older than him, had been more like a younger brother, and like a younger brother, had at times acted like a total brat, but for all that, someone he had truly loved and who had loved him, a real brother. Hermione, beloved friend, who had taken on the role of the older sister almost from the time they had become friends, and had taken her role far too seriously sometimes , but also the one person who had always been there for him. Then Luna and Neville, who he had never been close to before the events of fifth year, but who had risked their lives for him. And finally Ginny, who he would now never be able to find out if he could have actually loved, or if his feelings for her were artificially induced because of a bunch of silly girls. Hagrid, his first friend. Hedwig, his faithful companion. Even Remus Lupin, who had taught him the patronus, the charm that had saved him more than once. Those were the only people Harry would miss, the only people whose reaction could hurt him in any real way.

Harry almost ached with the desire to confide in his friends and seek their help but he just could not take that chance. Even if they did not agree with the rest of the wizarding community, there was nothing they could do for him, and they would probably get into trouble if it was found out they were in contact with him.

They were sure to be watched after all. He would write them a single letter of farewell, and hoped they forgave him if they still considered him their friend. And if they didn't, if they sided with the ones who wanted to see him destroyed....well, it wouldn't matter then would it.

He sat awake all night long, staring at nothing in the darkness, his eyes achingly dry. Only the tolling of the alarm bell at dawn managed to shake him out of the stupor he'd fallen into.

He checked on the potion and mechanically added the petals. There was only three days left to go. Harry felt none of the optimism and fire that had filled him in earlier days, when he'd convinced himself that he would be able to build a new life and leave all his problems behind him.

He was about to fall into a full blown depression when the crack of apparition jolted him into awareness. He turned to see Kreacher standing in the middle of the room, looking totally exhausted, but with happiness shining from his features.

"Hello Master Harry," said Kreacher in his squeaky voice. "I have come to tell you that I have cleaned up all of the house and garden, but now it is needing to be furnished. Do you wish for me to buy the furniture?" he looked at Harry enquiringly.

Harry blinked at him. His mind felt as if it were swimming in molasses, and Kreacher's words were not making any sense. He shook his head to clear it.

"Ah...Hello Kreacher," he said, when he finally worked out what the elf had said. "Congratulations on the cleaning."

"Thank you master," said Kreacher, his face beaming.

"Right, about the house, I want you to take everything you got from Grimmauld place and place it in the house. Umm...," he frowned for a second; thinking. "I want you to divide the contents from the vault into two parts. Take one part to the house. You can use some of the money for the upkeep of the house and buying stuff it needs, but make sure you use the money responsibly." Harry wondered if he was crazy to trust so much money to Kreacher but he couldn't really bring himself to care.

"Yes sir, Master harry, I will be very careful with Master's money," said Kreacher earnestly. The elf went to the trunk and started dividing the money and treasure in the bottomless sack into two piles. Seeing it, Harry was again reminded of the muggle fairytales of his primary school days. He'd always imagined that was how a dragon's treasure would look.

He watched Kreacher for a moment, before he remembered what had been on his mind. The depression threatened to return, but Harry shoved it away into a corner of his brain and locked it. The warning he'd read in the Occlumency book sounded in his head, but harry brushed it away. If he lost himself in hopelessness now, he wouldn't last long enough to have to deal with problems arising from misusing Occlumency.

He went to the table with the writing supplies and wrote down a quick note. He blew on it to dry it, then folded it tightly. He waited until Kreacher finished his task and handed it to him. "I want you to give this to Hermione Granger. Make sure no one can see you, and as soon as you give it to her, leave and go back to the house. Stay out of sight and make sure no one catches you. The ministry will be after you Kreacher."

Kreacher took the note, a slight look of distaste on his face. Clearly, he still hadn't given up on his old masters' views. Harry didn't care, so long as he got the note to Hermione.

"I will deliver the note safely Master. And the ministry will be finding it hard to catch Kreacher, they are always mixing up house elves," he grinned, a somewhat savage look on his face. He bowed to Harry in farewell and left.

Harry took a quick shower to wake himself up, then went to sleep after a light meal. He woke up after a few hours, feeling more clear headed and filled with purpose than he'd felt since he read that damned article. Perhaps it was cheating to clear his head using Occlumency instead of sitting down and working through all his issues, but what did it matter, so long as it worked?

Harry lay back on the couch as he considered what to do for the remaining three days before the completion of the potion. He'd mastered the first part of Occlumency well enough to move to the second part, the building of shields. He couldn't do anymore about viewing his soul until he could figure out where he was going wrong with the _Expositus Penetralis_.

There were plenty more books he could study to improve his knowledge on Occlumency and to learn more about Soul Magic, but there was one thing he had to do that he'd been avoiding like crazy. Finding a body donor.

Harry couldn't help the feeling of revulsion that spread through him. This was the part of his plan that truly bothered him. No amount of telling himself that the dead neither used nor needed their bodies made him feel any better. In the end, only the fact that he was determined not to give into those who would see him destroyed made him go through with finding a body.

He sat up straight on the couch and screwing up his nerve, asked the room for records of male British Wizarding children who died in the year 1990 aged around 13 years. A small stack of papers appeared in front of him. He picked the stack up warily and flicked through them. He closed his eyes in pain. They were all death certificates of children.

He forced himself to read through the certificates, hating himself. A number of children seemed to have death certificates of other nations, which surprised him until he realized they were all originally from Britain.

He separated those certificates out that indicated the dead child was an orphan, only three of them, and vanished the rest. One of the certificates belonged to a twelve year old boy who had died in Romania.

Alain Harold Thorne. Born 4th of March, 1978. Died 12th of May 1990. Harry looked at his certificate for a while, wondering who he had been. The boy would have been only two years older than him if he had lived. He wondered what the child had been doing in Romania, especially with no family.

A newspaper article appeared in front of him. '_**Werewolf Grandfather slaughters Grandson!'**_ screamed the headline under a picture of a forest clearing.

Harry's eyes widened and he picked up the newspaper to read the article. A few minutes of reading later, he dropped the paper in disgust. According to the paper, the werewolf, an eighty-four year old man named Harold Nicholas Thorne had been killed by hunters after he had killed his grandson. Not that the hunters had gotton away, they had succumbed to the injuries they received while battling the old werewolf.

In fact, reading through the lines, it seemed to Harry that it was the hunters who had killed both the boy and the werewolf granddad. The hunters, the old werewolf and the little boy had all been found dead in the clearing shown in the picture the morning after the full moon. There was absolutely nothing in the story that indicated the grandfather had been the one to kill the boy. Despite the headline, the paper seemed to have no sympathy for the boy; the writer seemed to think he was tainted for having a werewolf relative. They hadn't even bothered to bring him home to Britain; they had buried both the boy and his grandfather in a pauper's grave in Romania.

Harry sighed and vanished everything except for the death certificate in his hand. Harry wished the boy, Alain, could have had an easier life, but as he was long dead, there was nothing he could do to help him. It seemed even more horrible to think of using the body of a dead child in his ritual now that he had found a possible candidate and learned his name and of his tragic death. He wondered why the boy hadn't been at school. He was twelve when he got killed, which meant first year or even second. And his date of death was listed as being in May, so it wasn't like it was the holidays. And he was sure the bigoted writer would have mentioned it if the boy had been a squib.

He spent a restless hour wandering around the room, arguing with himself as he wrestled with his conscious. In the end he reaffirmed his earlier decision to go through with it. He could only hope that Alain would not mind too much the use his body would be put to.

By that time Harry was feeling extremely tired. Deciding that he would not be able to learn anything in his state he decided to have a short nap. He set the alarm to wake him after a couple of hours and went to sleep.

The buzz of the alarm woke him up after a restful few hours. Harry stretched and rolled of the couch. He was no longer tired but he was feeling ravenous and quite grungy. He washed up and had a quick meal before wondering to the lab area to check on the potion. It was nearing dusk, almost time to add the petals. The potion bubbled gently, its colour a pink so pale it could be mistaken for white. He asked the room for the Occlumency book he'd been using and settled in to do some reading while he waited for the sun to set.

Harry had been planning on researching the second stage of Occlumency that morning, before he had become preoccupied with the search for a body. He had pretty much mastered the first stage so it was time to move on. He flipped through the pages until he got to the section talking about second stage Occlumency.

According to the Occlumency book, the next step of Occlumency was to learn how to shield the mind. To do that he had to access his mindscape, and the easiest way of accessing one's mindscape seemed to be through dreams, either by using a charm or potion that would enable him to stay aware and in control of his dreams, using them as a vehicle to access his mindscape.

Harry frowned down at the book. It made it sound simple, but it seemed complicated to him. How did one use dreams to get to the mindscape? For that matter what _was_ the mindscape?

He saw the answer on the very next page. According to the author, the mindscape was formed by a gestalt of the mind and soul and was a representation of all that was a person. Since dreams were a link to the inner core of the human subconscious, someone who managed to stay aware while they were dreaming could dismiss the dream, letting them enter the mindscape, the world behind the dream.

Harry closed the book thoughtfully. The author advised extreme caution when entering the mindscape, as it was a reflection of the literal mind, where their thoughts had power to cause actual damage to themselves. Harry wasn't sure if it was a good idea to spend any time in one's mindscape, where the wrong thought or action could possibly _kill_ you. On the other hand the author did say that practice would let them develop a feel for what they could do safely and what would damage their mind. Only spending enough time in the mindscape would give them this awareness, however.

Harry supposed it would depend on how much you wanted to master Occlumency and get control of your mindscape. Unfortunately for him his need to master Occlumency was quite great. On the plus side, entering the mindscape would let someone discover their animagus form, which was really cool. Harry had never actually thought of becoming an animagus before, but the usefulness of being one couldn't be denied. It would be nice to know what animal he would turn into if he ever decided to actually become one anyway.

Well, it was close to his usual bedtime. He would get the chance to see how all this worked for himself. Maybe he might even be able to find out why he couldn't get the charm for accessing _OtherSense_ to work for him. Mastering Occlumency was supposed to make it easier, although it hadn't helped so far. On the other hand mastering stage one Occlumency had helped him in learning how to separate his conscious from his body, so maybe it was too early to judge.

The alarm sounded, signalling sunset, and harry got up to add the petals. Only two more days to go. The potion was close to completion now, and Harry was relieved by how well it was doing. This year had taught him that he could be quite good at making potions if he had good instructions to follow. It was a pity Slughorn had not been the potions professor from his first year, he might have actually tried to learn the subject instead of ignoring it out of his dislike for Snape.

He asked the room for a light meal, then got ready for bed. Usually he went straight to sleep at this time but tonight Harry wanted to try finding his mindscape. He asked the room for one of the potions mentioned in the book, the Somnio Conscius potion, which helped someone to stay aware while dreaming. It appeared on the table, a bubbling, frothy pink. Harry was quite glad no one could see him drink it. It looked the epitome of a girly drink. It even tasted slightly pleasant.

He mentally reviewed the information he'd read on the mindscape as he waited to fall asleep. Everyone had their own version of the mindscape, no two people had the same one. Mindscapes were always changing, evolving as the person grew, if it was a happy person, there mindscape would be a nice, peaceful place. If it was a person who had led an unhappy life, their mindscape would reflect that. When someone managed to gain control of their mindscape they would be able to shape it however they wanted.

Gradually, without being aware of it Harry fell asleep. He found himself wondering a gigantic cage, whose bars reached to the very sky. He knew at once he was dreaming, and that the potion had worked. For a moment he wondered how to dismiss the dream, then recalled his Occlumency exercises. Applying the same principal to the dream, he was able to dispel it from his mind.

The dream broke apart, leaving nothing in its place but emptiness. He had just enough time to panic, before he felt a sinking sensation, and he found himself going straight down through the nothingness, only to become enveloped by a strangely familiar grey mist. It was exactly like what he saw when he separated his body from his consciousness. Harry wondered what the connection was. Did leaving his body and entering the mindscape have something in common?

The familiar surroundings calmed him down, and he stopped himself from moving, only then realising he had control of himself.

He moved around freely, testing his limits. After a while he realized there was a very slight difference in feel between the place he now found himself in and where his 'mind' for want of a better term, went to when he left his body. Harry was willing to bet the two definitely had a connection. It would be something he would have to investigate; perhaps the way to entering the mindscape freely, without the use of potions, was to be found there.

In the meantime he wasn't seeing anything that looked like any kind of place, where was this representation of his self? Harry drifted around in the dark grey mist, frustration building in him as time wore on and he still remained in the same featureless emptiness.

In the end, too frustrated to continue trying, he closed his eyes, and sent a mental command to himself to wake up. Nothing happened that he could feel, and a feeling of unease gripped him. How long was he going to be stuck in here if he couldn't wake himself up? He opened his eyes, expecting to see the grey mists, but it was another scene entirely that met his eyes.

He was standing in the middle of a place he recognized very well, although on a scale it had never held in real life. It was the cupboard under the stairs, expanded to the size of the room created for him by the magic of the Room of Requirement.

After a few moments he realized that wasn't exactly true. The massive room did bear a great deal of resemblance to the cupboard under the stairs, but the floor was not the thin grey carpet of the cupboard but a glossy wooden floor the colour of honey.

The tiny bed he'd once slept in was gone, replaced by the so comfortable couch from the room. There was a huge fireplace in one wall that looked eerily like the one in the Gryffindor common room, except on a much more massive scale. There were pegs on one side, some empty, others with various items of clothing hanging from them. A small library-like area was in one corner, although there were precious few books on the shelves. There seemed to be a small kitchen in the other corner, filled with a strange jumble of muggle and wizarding items. The shelves that had filled one side of his tiny cupboard also filled one entire wall of this room. They were just as full too.

A mirror that looked suspiciously like the mirror of erised stood along one of the walls; though the words engraved on the other one was missing here. He walked over to it cautiously. The second he looked in it, he wished he hadn't indulged his curiosity. The reflection showed him as he was, but he wasn't alone. There was a shadowy figure wrapped all around him, a wraith made of what looked like a twisting black and grey vapour. Harry jerked back in shock, and as he got out of the range of the mirror, he thought for a moment he saw a massive black snake in place of the wraith. He backed away hurriedly. It didn't take a genius to know what that was supposed to represent, and Harry didn't want to be anywhere near it.

He went to check out what was in the shelves instead. As he drew closer he realized they were picture frames, snapshots of his daily life. The entire wall of shelves were full of them. There were thousands upon thousands of the pictures, and harry realized with a feeling of awe, that they contained all the memories of his life.

One of the pictures captured his attention, and Harry leaned to pick it up. The second he touched it he was pulled through the picture frame, and he found himself standing in his little room in number four, Privet Drive, staring at the barred window, and the face of Ron Weasely staring back at him.

It was the memory of his rescue by Ron and the twins in second year. And yet unlike a pensieve, he was not watching this memory as an observer, he was actually in his body, and he could hear the thoughts of his younger self. Harry didn't know if he could actually change his memory if he tried, but he was afraid the answer was yes, so he was careful not to try anything. He watched, feeling his younger self's delight at being rescued from the Dursely prison as the twins and Ron helped him get away.

The memory lasted up until the car arrived at the Burrow, then he was back in the cupboard room. It had reminded him painfully of what he had lost, and could never again regain. Mouth tight, he stepped away from the shelves and looked around. So this was his mindscape. Not exactly what he'd thought it would be but he supposed it wasn't too bad. And if he really wanted to, he could always change it when he managed to figure out how.

Although right now what he needed to figure out was how to _leave_ his mindscape. He tried to remember what he'd been thinking when he'd managed to get to the mindscape. He'd been fed up, and had tried to will himself awake. But he'd appeared in his mindscape. Why?

After a few minutes of thought Harry realized that while he'd tried to will himself awake, that wasn't what he'd really wanted. He'd wanted to find his mindscape and he'd sent himself here instead of waking up.

He closed his eyes again, and focused all his thoughts on the desire to wake up. Harry blinked and looked around. He was lying on his couch in the room. He breathed out a sigh of relief. This stage of Occlumency training was proving to be a little stressful. Thankfully it didn't seem as though he'd managed to damage himself. To complete this stage, he had to learn how to get to his mindscape at will and become familiar with it, then he would be able to construct shields to protect himself from mental attacks or invasion.

Harry sighed. It was really too bad he hadn't done this last year. It would have been nice to be able to shut Snape out of his mind. And he might have been able to realize Voldemort's trickery for what it was. He turned around on the couch and tried to sleep, his thoughts heavy.

He spent most of the next day asleep, as he tried to teach himself to access the mindscape at will. He progressed to a stage where he could get to the mindscape as soon as he fell asleep, without going through the dream first, but he still needed the potion to keep him from falling into a true sleep. He resolved to learn how to meditate. Mediation would let him get into a deep enough trance to enter the mindscape, without having to take the potion. Harry supposed he should have just gone through that route from the beginning, but this way had seemed so much faster.

He went to sleep at dusk after checking on the potion. It was a shimmery white now, very close to the shade it needed to be when done.

He was woken at dawn the following day by the ring of the alarm. So used to his routine Harry had gotten up, washed and was standing in front of the potion before he realized this was the very last day. He stared at the potion, completely white now, for a frozen moment. This was it. His last day in the room that had been both haven and prison.

He carefully added the petals for the last time, stirring slowly for the required number of times. At the last stir, it turned a beautiful silvery-white colour. The potion was a success. Harry didn't know whether to feel happy or apprehensive. There was nothing keeping him from leaving now. Starting from when he left the room, he would have to depend on himself. The Room of Requirement had been almost like a parent in some really strange fashion. It had provided everything he needed to survive.

He shook his head at himself and cast a stasis spell on the potion to keep it safe and fresh, then he went back to his routine. He had the rest of the day to get through after all, sine he wasn't leaving until night time.

After his breakfast he spent some time with his Occlumency exercises and leaving his body, trying to figure out the link between the grey mists he encountered in the space between his dreams and the mindscape, and the grey mists he saw whenever he left his body. He was unsuccessful. Harry suspected that getting his _OtherSense_ to work would be the key in finding out, but trying to cast the _Expositus Penetralis_ charm left him with the same old headache.

He abandoned the attempt and decided his time would be better served in packing up. Not there were all that many things to pack up. He'd left most of his items in the very useful bottomless satchel Kreacher had bought for him. He packed up the various pieces of parchment and other items belonging to him that were not created by the room.

Harry chewed the corner of his lip for a moment, thinking. Some of the books provided by the room had been really useful. And maybe another bottomless satchel. He didn't like the idea of carrying the satchel that contained all his worldly goods around with him when he went back in time. He needed to find more information on Romania as well. There were probably travel guides in the bookshops.

Romania. Harry frowned to himself. He really hoped there was such a thing as translation charms, otherwise it was going to be a bit hard to get anything done when he got there. And if, _when,_ he succeeded with the ritual he would be living in Romania for at least sometime. Since he would be unable to use any magic for the first couple of years after the ritual, he would have to be very careful how he set up his life, considering he would be a twelve year old boy with virtually no defences.

Harry shivered at the thought of how defenceless he would be making himself. And the thought of deliberately removing his ability to do magic for what would be at least two years filled him with a creeping horror. Somehow the plan had seemed so much better before he actually started carrying it out.

Harry had absolutely no idea what life in Romania was like, but he thought it would be safe to assume that if the authorities saw a young boy without guardians they would probably place him in an orphanage. And considering the tone of the newspaper article he'd read, he doubted that the ministry would bother bringing home the orphaned grandson of a confirmed werewolf.

All that meant he would be stranded in Romania without magic and unable to speak the language and all of twelve years old. Harry supposed he could always buy a property in Romania and cast the Fidelius on it before he did the ritual. He could hide out in it and wait for his magic to come back. That would probably be the safest thing to do.

Or he could buy another property in Britain and Fidelius that before he left for Romania, and scrounge up an international port-key to return him to Britain. Either way would keep him safe, but Harry didn't like the idea of spending all that time in what amounted to house arrest.

Harry thought about it for a while, then decided the easiest thing to do would be to buy a property in Romania and cast the Fidelius on it, and so long as he took a stockpile of Polyjuice potion, or the supplies to make his own at least, he would be able to go out in public relatively safely.

Of course that meant he still had to find a translation charm, or a quick way to learn Romanian. He opened his eyes and sat up. As always the room had anticipated his needs and there was a thick leather-covered book on the table in front of him. 'On the Power of Speech' read the title.

Harry sighed and reached for the book, grimacing at its size. He flipped through it, but he couldn't see anything about translation charms. It actually seemed to be some sort of history on languages. Harry frowned. The room would not have provided this particular book unless what he needed was in it. The hard way it was then. He flipped to the beginning of the book and settled down to a long afternoon of reading.

He read the book until it was almost evening, stopping only once to eat. Harry could see why some people spent so much time buried in books, it could actually become quite addicting; the search for knowledge. Or entertainment.

At the end of the book harry had learned a lot about various languages and their effect on magic. He also learned that there were no such thing as translation charms as such, but there were comprehension charms that enabled someone to learn any language in a very short amount of time. You had to cast the charm on yourself and then immerse yourself in the language you intended to learn. The more time one spent listening to the language and interacting with it in anyway, the faster one learned. Harry liked the book so much he decided to get a copy of it.

He retrieved one of his parchments and wrote out all the things he needed, then called Kreacher, who popped in, looking cleaner than the last couple of times Harry had seen him. He gave him the shopping list and told him to buy everything as soon as possible. Kreacher bowed and popped away.

He spent the time until Kreacher returned practicing the comprehension charm listed in the book. He thought he got the hang of it, but the test would come in when he tried to use it to learn Romanian.

Kreacher popped back in, with his shopping in a bottomless satchel again. Harry bid him goodbye and told him to have a wonderful life, reminding him not to speak to anyone about Harry or anything Harry had told him to do. Kreacher looked surprised but happy as he flashed away. Harry wasn't sure if the bond would remain after he completed the ritual, as it would change his magical signature, but if it did break, hopefully Kreacher would be alright at Selik Hall.

He got out another piece of parchment and started planning his journey. According to the book if someone immersed themselves totally in a foreign culture without the use of charms, it would take them an average of six months before they spoke the language fluently. The comprehension charm would cut that down to just a few weeks.

Harry decided to get to Romania a full month before he had to do the ritual and spend the first couple of weeks in muggle Romania. That way he would be able to learn the language and arrange everything for his new life without getting into any trouble with the local wizarding population. He set aside the parchment and got out the books Kreacher had bought. He needed more information on Romania before he could plan a new life there.

Kreacher had bought three books on Romania. A travel guide and two histories. He skimmed through them, trying to get a feel for the country and its people. The only thing he knew about Romania was that there were a number of vampire clans in Transylvania and that Ron's brother Charlie worked at a dragon preserve there. By the time he finished skimming the books it was full dark and he had learned a few more things about Romania, namely the fact that it had a much bigger magical population than Britain, if not necessarily a bigger wizarding one. There was a minister of magic but it didn't have power over all of the magical population, like in Britain. The books didn't seem to be very clear on that point. Harry supposed it would be something he would have to learn when he got there.

In the meantime however, he would have to find a muggle guide to Romania, since that was where he was planning on going first. And there was one last thing he had to find out. He asked the room for a record of the times that Dumbledore had been outside Hogwarts for at least a few hours during late April or early May in the year 1990.

He didn't want to risk alerting Dumbledore to his presence after his time travel, and the prophet reported on Dumbledore's comings and goings quite regularly. A stack of old newspapers appeared in front of him, and he skimmed through them quickly. It wasn't hard to find several instances in which Dumbledore was reported as being at the ministry for some reason or other. He chose the 4th of May, a Friday when Dumbledore was reported as being in an all day session of the Wizengamot.

Harry packed away all his belonging securely in his satchels, except for a vial of Polyjuice he'd prepared earlier, the time-turner and the map and the invisibility cloak. He took a swig of the Polyjuice, then placed in his pocket for easier access. He put on his invisibility cloak and looked around the room one last time. It seemed so strange to be leaving it for good. He bid it a silent goodbye, and left, closing the door behind him for the last time. He checked the map, and was pleased to see that no one was in the public areas. It was almost midnight, so he wasn't surprised. He slipped quietly through the halls, and made it to the passage to Honeydukes with no interference.

He walked for a short distance, then stopped. He couldn't go too far, as he needed the protection of the Hogwarts wards to mask his time travel. He took out the time-turner, then with a deep breath, started turning the moon-knob, very carefully keeping count of the number of turns, by the time he got to fifty his hand was getting quite cramped. He forced himself to carry on. Sixty...seventy...the last few turns were very painful but he just managed to turn it the last few times before his hand seized, then he was gone, whisked off in the explosion of colour and sound that accompanied time-travel.

* * *

Interlude

James and Lily Potter lay in their bed, both of them awake, unable to sleep as they tried to come to terms with the fact that the life they had known was gone forever, their closest friends dead or worse than dead, and those who remained all old enough to be their parents. They lay silent, worried and fearful for the future of their family, for their little baby boy who lay sleeping peacefully in his cot next to their bed. And in the silence both thought of a young man they had never met, but who was as much their son as the sleeping baby, and whose death was wanted by almost the entire wizarding community.

* * *

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, eyes closed and head resting on the back of his chair. It was night, but there were no lights on in the office, no fire in the fireplace. Fawkes the phoenix was not in residence, sent off to carry a message. Dumbledore sat in the darkness, his heart heavy, feeling more tired and alone than he had ever been before. His thoughts were dark, self loathing gripped him tightly and left him unable to sleep. He thought of days long past, and things he should have done differently. He thought of an innocent baby, marked for death. And he wondered, would it have been kinder to have killed the baby then, than to have let compassion get in the way and let him grow up a normal child, unknowing of the death sentence hanging on his head? Was it compassion or weakness, which had led him to keep the child in ignorance, year after year, as he grew older and fought battles never meant for someone of his tender years? Dumbledore sat in the darkness and wept, for a young man he had come to love as a son, who he would now have to hunt down and see destroyed, a young man innocent of any crime save that of being born at the wrong time.

* * *

Five friends sat quietly under a tree in the grounds of Hogwarts, all eyes on a parchment held by one of their number. Finally the holder of the letter, a bushy haired young woman, set aside the piece of parchment and looked at her companions, a fierce look on her face. "This changes nothing," she said. "He is still our friend". The blond haired girl sitting to her right looked at her in surprise, her big grey eyes becoming sharp for a moment. "Of course he is," she said, then stuck a blade of grass in her mouth. The red haired girl had been the quietest of the five, and she said nothing to this statement, settling for a simple nod of her head. The remaining two, both boys, a blond and a redhead, looked at each other for a moment. The blond's eyes were troubled but he finally nodded. "It changes nothing." Finally only the redhead was left. He scowled at his friends. "What? Did you think I was going to turn on him?" He demanded in a belligerent voice. They did not reply, but looked away awkwardly. He huffed at them, then slumped, a despondent look on his face. "He should have come to us," he said. "We could have helped him."

No one spoke after that for a long time, their thoughts with their absent friend, each hoping he was somewhere safe.

* * *

A great big thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. And to all those that just read too :)

I hope there are no mistakes in this, I had one son climbing all over my back, and the other one watching Tom and Jerry at full blast while I was trying to edit, and now it is 1:30 and I'm half asleep. Let me know if anyone spots any continuity errors or mistakes please. Thanks! :)


	6. The Ritual

Harry appeared out of thin air, and immediately fell down on the dusty floor of the secret passage. Time-travel had never felt so rough before, but then, he'd never travelled back for more than two days before this. He sat still for a few minutes; feeling too sick and dizzy to move.

He forced himself to move after a while, and started the half-hour trek down the passage to get out of the range of Hogwart's wards. The passage looked no different to when he had used it last, six years in the future. Harry was glad his younger self was not at Hogwarts yet. It was strange enough to think there was a ten-year-old version of himself at Privet Drive, without the younger-him being literally minutes away on the other side of the secret passage.

After about twenty minutes of walking Harry stopped as he felt himself pass through what felt like a warm ripple of air. He looked around but there was nothing to see. He stood for a moment, frowning thoughtfully. He was quite sure that had been the wards. He'd never felt them before, but he had noticed that sensing magic was getting easier ever since he had learned how to sense his own. He could only imagine what actually seeing the magic would be like. He took off his cloak and stuffed it in his pocket, together with the time turner. Concentrating on the image of the Leaky Cauldron, he turned on the spot and vanished.

He appeared with a loud crack in front of the Inn. He pushed the door open and went inside. Tom wasn't there; instead an old man with wild grey hair Harry hadn't seen before was reading a copy of the prophet behind the bar. He looked up as Harry entered, his rheumy brown eyes blinking at him curiously.

Harry nodded to him in greeting. "Hello, sorry to come in so late, but I'm afraid I was stuck late at work, and I don't want to wake up the friends I'm staying with. Do you have a room available?"

The old man pushed himself to his feet and grinned at him "Late at work, eh" he said slyly. "Not to worry, young man, the old Leaky is open at all hours". He motioned for Harry to follow him. "Just for the night, then?" he asked.

"Yes, I'll be off in the morning after breakfast," replied Harry.

The old man led him to a room similar to the one he'd stayed in during third year, and left after telling him to pay his bill in the morning.

Harry wrapped his invisibility cloak around his satchel and stuck it next to his pillow, mentally reminding himself to practice the security charms in his books. He fell asleep wondering why the old man had sounded so amused when he told him why he'd come to the inn.

He woke the following morning feeling refreshed but ravenous. It seemed to be quite late, judging by the light coming through the windows. He washed up quickly then gulped down a mouthful of the leftover Polyjuice potion. He walked down to the bar after he transformed. Tom was there this time, serving breakfast to a number of people. Harry supposed the other man must have been the night manager.

"Good morning," he greeted the Inn keeper. "I'd like to pay the bill now please". Harry wanted to get to Romania as soon as possible, before anyone started asking any questions about who he was.

"Mornin" said Tom with a smile that showed his toothless gums. "That'll be a Galleon for the night". Harry paid him and left through the muggle entrance.

Charing Cross Road was full of shops and it wasn't hard to spot a number of bookshops after just a few minutes of walking. He entered one of the big chain store bookshops and made straight for the travel section. A few minutes of browsing and he had a small stack of books on Romania.

He rummaged around in his satchel until he found one of the bundles of muggle money Kreacher had brought to him what seemed like years ago. He peeled of a couple of twenties and got inline at the counter to pay.

No one looked at him twice. He was wearing a pair of wizarding made slacks and shirt that were supposed to go under open style robes, but they were close enough to muggle clothing for anyone to take any notice of them.

He left the bookshop and went to the cafe next door. He bought a sandwich and sat on one of the outside tables and started reading one of the books as he ate.

A half an hour of reading left him feeling a little concerned. Apparently Romania was going through a political upheaval at the present, their last president having been executed four months before on Christmas day. They must have really hated him. Harry could see why, Ceauşescu sounded like a real piece of work. Too bad the wizarding community couldn't take a leaf out of their books and do the same to Voldemort. No matter how powerful he was, he wouldn't be able to escape a few thousand wizards all trying to kill him at once.

He discovered that Romania was holding an election in just a couple of weeks, but that things were still unsettled in the country. After thinking about it for a while he decided that so long as he was careful, he wouldn't need to change his plans. He paid special attention to the pictures of Bucharest, the capital city. He needed to find a safe place to Apparate to. Nothing he'd been able to find out mentioned any rules against apparating into another country so that was the method he was planning to use. You had to register yourself within three days of arrival, however, whatever your method of travel.

He laid a tip on the table and left the cafe, intending to visit one of the many currency exchange shops in the area. No one batted so much an eye when he asked to change several thousand pounds into Romanian Leu. The wonders of a big city. No one cared what you were up to. He ducked in a corner when he felt himself changing back. Not even city folk were so blasé they would ignore someone transforming right before their eyes.

He spent the rest of the day wandering around muggle London, collecting supplies. He was planning to go to Romania as a tourist who was interested in learning the Romanian language. It was almost true. Harry didn't want to drink Polyjuice for the entire month before the ritual, and he didn't want to rely on charms that could be cancelled out, so he decided to disguise himself the muggle way.

A visit to an optician's had him emerging an hour later with coloured prescription contacts that turned his bright green eyes into a light brown. The hairdressers next to the opticians took care of his unmanageable hair by straightening it, and a quick dye job turned it into a dark brown. His hair would go back to normal in six weeks, but he wouldn't need a disguise by then. A folded bandana wrapped around his forehead took care of hiding his scar and he bought a few jeans and casual outfits to better fit in with his tourist disguise. Harry was amazed at how different he looked. He almost didn't recognize himself.

He waited until it was almost dark, then packed away all his shopping in a big backpack to complete the picture of a young carefree tourist. He walked down to Charring Cross tube station and went down the stairs, then spent some time wandering around until he came to an empty spot. He put on his invisibility cloak and after making sure no one was close enough to hear him, he focused on a picture of a pretty old church he'd seen in one of his books and vanished with a crack.

Harry was glad to see there was no one around when he reappeared in front of the church. He took of his cloak and stuffed into his pocket, then made his way to the nearest street. Harry had chosen the church because it was out of the way, but still close to the heart of the city. Within a few minutes he was in the midst of a busy teeming road, lit with electric lights and the glow of neon signs. There were people everywhere, a significant portion of them clearly foreigners. Harry was surprised at the number of wild dogs roaming free in what was clearly a modern city. He quickly found a hostel and checked in, relieved to see the manager spoke English, albeit not very fluently.

He spent the next few weeks wandering the streets of the city, chatting with the locals. Apart from the comprehension charm he cast each morning, and the do-not-notice and locking spells on his satchel, he tried to cast no other spells, lest they be picked up by the local wizards. He did have to glamour up a passport with a visa. He'd totally forgotten about that part of muggle travel.

Sometimes he went to the cinema with people his age he met while walking. He went to the beach, amusement arcades, museums, ice rinks, anywhere he could think of. Harry had never been on holiday before and he'd decided to make this a real holiday, and not just an opportunity to learn the Romanian language.

Although he tried not to worry about it too much, the knowledge that soon he would no longer be the Harry Potter he'd always been was never far from his thoughts. He knew that it would be unlikely he would ever be able to have a holiday like this again, no matter what happened in the future, so he did his best to make the most of it. He threw himself into having as much fun as he could, went to places he never would have dared normally, talked to people he never would have before.

The first time he got drunk he decided to stick with non alcoholic drinks however. Harry didn't know why anyone would deliberately inflict something like a hangover on themselves. He also resisted the temptation to get a tattoo when one of his new acquaintances managed to get a picture of a girl tattooed on a very embarrassing place.

He never spent too much time with any of the people he met; he didn't want questions on how he was picking up the language so fast. He was learning Romanian faster than he'd thought possible, although that was partly due to the fact that Romanian seemed very close to Latin, and you couldn't spend so many years casting spells based on Latin without picking up a bit of the language here and there.

He moved around from hostel to hostel, going from one end of the city to the other, and every night, after he retired to wherever he was staying he practiced meditation. He hadn't bothered to get any of the Somnio Conscius potion because he'd decided not to go back to the mindscape until he learned how to get it to it without any assistance. He spent the first week just learning about how meditation worked.

He discovered quickly that there was more than one type of meditation. There was the meditation used to create a positive and peaceful state of mind. To relax, increase awareness, find clarity and sharpen mental focus. It sounded nice but it required the working through of all negative thoughts and memories and Harry had no intention of disturbing the unstable mess of emotions he'd locked away.

He focused his attention on learning the meditation techniques that let someone enter a state of trance where you could access the parts of yourself that was normally inaccessible; the subconscious. This part was easier because instead of learning to deal with and become at peace with yourself, you simply learned how to dismiss all your emotions and then when your mind became totally clear, and aware, you could send yourself into a deeper trance where you could enter your mindscape.

He spent a couple of hours practicing the meditation exercises every night, and perhaps because he'd already known how to clear his mind, he found at the end of a couple of weeks he could send himself into a shallow trance, although any slight disturbance usually managed to get him out of it pretty quickly.

The days and weeks sped by until he found there was only a week left until the 12th of May deadline. Harry bid his new friends a reluctant goodbye. He still needed to buy a property and cast the Fidelius on it. And he had to prepare for the ritual as well. He knew where Alain had died because of the picture in the newspaper so he would be able to apparate there, and the paper had mentioned that there was a village nearby, but he had no idea where in Romania it was.

Harry double checked his packing as he got ready to leave the city. He had enough Polyjuice to last him for several months, and supplies to make more. He'd nicked quite a bit of hair from a young Romanian guy getting his hair cut in a barbers he passed by one day, so there were no worries there. He'd already prepared a flask full of Polyjuice using the hair, and he took a swig of it now.

Strangely enough, he didn't look all that different from his normal self. Harry had always thought Romanians were Mediterranean looking, but they had a mixture of all types, from blue eyed blonds with fair skin to olive skin and dark curly hair. Right now he had dark blue eyes and wavy black hair, and his skin was the same tanned shade as his real body.

He made sure the rather large number of trinkets and souvenirs he'd acquired were packed away safely. He was quite surprised by their number. The bottomless satchels made shopping quite misleading. The cauldron that held the precious potion sat securely in his first satchel, stasis charm keeping it still and safe.

When Harry could no longer find any tasks to delay him, he reluctantly wrapped himself up in his cloak and apparated out to the clearing in the forest where Alain and his Grandfather had been murdered. He appeared with the usual loud crack and Harry reminded himself, again, to look into how to apparate silently.

The forest clearing looked like any you could find in the Forbidden Forest. Spring made the trees green and lush, and the sounds of many small animals came from the dense undergrowth. Bright sunlight lit the leaf strewn path leading away from the clearing. It did not look like the scene of a violent battle.

Harry shivered in his cloak and got out his wand to use the charm that found the nearest human. It pointed due east, and he set off walking. Almost an hour later he started seeing signs of habitation.

The trail he was following widened out and scattered village houses with large gardens full of wildflowers came into view.

Ancient looking watering troughs carved from tree trunks stood in front of some of the houses. The village looked quite pretty; it had cobblestone streets and an interesting fountain by the main road. There seemed to be what looked like a ruined castle somewhere in the distance.

He asked a toothless old man sitting on a bench outside a pub for directions to the nearest hostel and he directed him to a nearby bed and breakfast. He followed the narrow cobblestone alleys to a big two-storey house. There were stacks of neatly-cut firewood in front, half covered with lots of different kinds of flowers. A friendly middle aged couple greeted him and he made arrangements to stay until he found a more long-term place.

There were a few other tourists around, so he did not stand out too much. He told the curious he was a writer doing research on the beautiful Romanian forests and asked around for someone who was willing to sell him a small place. He'd decided back in the capital not to try living in a big city. There were just too many dangers there and trains to the capital were always available if he really needed anything from there.

The very next day he was directed to an old widow living not too far from the bed and breakfast who had a small cottage she wanted to get rid of. She did not seem to be too pleased to see him, even when he told her why he'd come. She showed him around the cottage. It had a single large room with a small underground cellar and a tiny bathroom. The over grown garden that came with it was three times the size of the cottage. It was completely empty apart from a small couch shoved in a corner. The cottage had clearly been abandoned for many years. Harry didn't dare ask the lady why, the look on her face forbade the asking of any questions.

He found out later from the couple who owned the bed and breakfast that the cottage had belonged to the widow's son, who'd bought it just before he was about to get married. Then his fiancée had died in an accident and the son killed himself.

The couple offered to arrange the sale for him and he agreed, not wanting to upset the grieving old lady. They took care of arranging everything with the local notary and the bank. He was glad he'd changed his pounds to the local Leu in Bucharest after he found out that locals were not allowed to have too much foreign currency. He paid a bonus to the friendly couple and left for his new cottage.

The first thing he did was cast the Fidelius charm. A sense of relief filled him. At last he had a secure place in which to plan out the rest of his immediate future. He spent the rest of the day casting cleaning and repairing charms. By night, the cottage looked almost liveable, although he still had no furniture apart from the old couch.

Harry decided not to bother getting any furniture and set up his tent instead. It was much more comfortable than the cottage could ever hope to be.

He spent much of the following few days familiarizing himself with his mindscape. He always made sure not to look into the mirror. He had absolutely no desire to see what it showed again. He came to realize that all the items in the cupboard room symbolized something about him. The roaring fire in the massive stone fireplace felt a lot like his magic, and no matter how hot it felt, it didn't seem to hurt him. He'd actually taken to spending a lot of time just standing in the middle of the roaring fire. It made him feel wonderfully alive and full of energy.

Harry found the books in the bookshelves symbolized his knowledge. Every spell he knew, all the potions he could brew and all the other things he'd learned over his life, both mundane and magical, seemed to be in those few books. He found the small number of books disheartening until he realized there was no way the amount of things in each book would be able to fill an ordinary book. He felt much happier after that, although he resolved to learn more as soon as he could.

There were a lot of items in the room he couldn't figure out what they were supposed to symbolize. Was the kitchen supposed to show his ability to cook? Harry didn't know, but since the book had said to learn his mindscape he spent as much time as he could memorizing all the items.

Once, quite by accident he looked into the mirror. It didn't show his wraith-wrapped reflection this time; instead the massive black snake he'd glimpsed before lay coiled on the ground, looking a lot like Nagini now that he could see it more clearly, and standing atop it, its talons hooked on the snakes head was a magnificent blue-grey falcon, it's wings wide stretched for balance. Its liquid black eyes stared straight back at him.

Harry watched them warily for a while, but they didn't do anything except look back. He frowned thoughtfully. It seemed he would need to learn a lot more about the significance of the things he saw and exactly what they were supposed to symbolize.

Sometimes he let himself enter one of his more enjoyable memories. It kept the feeling of loneliness at bay. He'd been so busy ever since he'd first decided to run, first with preparing for his escape, then his learning holiday at the capital, he'd never actually had much time to miss his friends. Now, everyday the feeling of loneliness and homesickness seemed to increase.

He forced himself not to go to the village. Spending time with the friendly villagers he'd met might have eased the loneliness, but it was safer by far for him if he stayed away. He wanted the villagers to completely forget about the stranger who'd bought a cottage and then vanished, together with the cottage. These people were muggles, but a lot of them still believed in magic and they might very well finger him for what he was.

Instead he spent the time going through the books he'd had Kreacher buy for him, learning spells he'd always been interested in learning, but never got around to. He started with practicing battle spells, but had to stick to precision and controlled spells after he blew out the back wall with a powerful lightning hex.

He found a section on cosmetic charms in one of the books that seemed to be pretty useful. He was pretty sure they were for witches who wanted to pretty themselves up, but the spells to lighten or darken skin, to subtly alter the shape of your face, could work just as well to disguise how someone looked. Then there were the grooming spells for when you had no quick access to a bath, from spells to clean your body, to changing the way you smelled, to styling hair. There was even a spell for cleaning out waste products from the body, although it was recommended not to use that spell for continuous use, in case the body came to rely on the spell and forgot how to get rid of the waste by itself.

He'd also finally learnt what made the cracking sound of apparition. Apparently when someone apparated they went outside the space-time of the normal world and entered a sort of parallel plain. Forcing the entry and exit points open created the sound, but lessening the power used would decrease it. It required a level of control over their magic not many people achieved, hence the reason most people made the cracking sound.

He continued practicing his Occlumency every night, and at long last he figured out the connection between the grey mists and the boundary between them. The grey mists were simply the soul and life energy that everyone put out, and they appeared that way to him because he didn't have the ability to see what they actually looked like. When he developed his _OtherSense_ he would be able to see it more clearly. The boundary between them turned out to be the faint natural shields that everyone, muggle or wizard was born with.

When he left his body he was approaching his mind from the outside, the same way a Legilimens would, and because he didn't know how to breach shields, his own natural shield kept him out. Unfortunately natural shields were too fragile to keep out any one trained in the mind arts. He spent a lot of time simply feeling his way around the shield, learning how it felt.

As the week neared its end Harry made his first attempts at making a shield. The starting point was pretty easy; you just built upon the shield already in place by gradually infusing raw magic into it. He quickly learned not to try putting in too much magic at once after losing consciousness for several hours, then having to spend the rest of the day in bed, paralyzed with pain.

On the final night, Harry did not go to bed. He spent most of the night leaning against the sitting room window, staring out at the darkness. He could not sleep. Tonight was the night Alain had died, which meant he would have to complete the ritual tomorrow. His eyes turned inward, as he thought about what it would mean for him. Would he be still Harry inside, or would he be irrevocably changed? The ritual was not supposed to change who the person was inside, but this was magic that dealt with the strongest of forces. Who knew what could happen.

A faint frown crossed his face as a niggling thought at the back of his head tried to make itself heard. He had the feeling he was missing something, as if he'd forgotten some important detail in his plan. Harry frowned harder, perplexed. Everything was ready for the ritual, had been from the first day he'd arrived. There was nothing left to arrange so why...

His thoughts trailed away, a look of sickened comprehension dawning on his face. He stood stock still for one moment, his face white, finally realizing the flaw in his plan. To him, Alain had never really been alive. The first time he'd encountered his name, it had been in a death certificate. So the fact that Alain was alive in the here and now had never really registered.

Intellectually Harry knew he was six years back in the past, but it had not occurred to him what that would mean. He exploded into motion, not even stopping to put on his boots. Faster than he'd ever done before, he turned on his heel and apparated out to the clearing in the woods, hoping against hope that Alain and his grandfather would be still alive.

He appeared in the midst of a nightmare. His eyes could not take it in all at first, the darkness masking the mutilated bodies; the pieces of bodies strewn across the forest floor, the liberal amounts of blood splashed everywhere.

But the darkness could not mask the terrible stink of death, the foul stench of ruptured organs and stomachs ripped apart.

He reeled back, stomach heaving, and fell to the ground with his hands outstretched. He landed on something wet and squishy, and he scrambled madly backwards.

Frantic, he tried to wipe his hands clean on the grass, but instead touched what was clearly a head, longish hair feeling miraculously clean and dry. Heart in his throat, he lit his wand, and looked down into the face of a young boy, grey eyes filmed over in death, gazing sightlessly at the sky.

He threw himself sideways, gagging, as he vomited up what felt like all the food he'd eaten in the last few days. Every time he stopped it started up again, the horrible smell of blood and guts leaving him feeling too sick to make himself stop.

_No, no, no, not again, not again, _the refrain ran through his mind, over and over again. It was like Cedric all over again, except this time was almost worse. He'd known in advance when Alain and his grandfather were going to be attacked. He'd lived in the village, only a few miles from here for a whole week. At any time he could have warned them, prevented this from ever happening. He'd done the same for Buckbeak, just a few short years ago.

He didn't stop throwing up until there was nothing left in his stomach, not even bile. Self-loathing and despair almost threatened to cripple him, and Harry took refuge in a familiar escape. He blanked his mind forcefully, shoving all emotions to the furthest corners of his mind.

He turned to where the little boy lay and picked him up. Face blank and eyes empty, he cradled him close and apparated back to his cottage. For several long minutes he just stood in the middle of his living room, staring at the wall with unseeing eyes.

He had the time-turner. He could go back. He could warn the grandfather about what was to come. Even if they did not believe him, he could force them to listen with the Imperius. What then?

Find another dead child? It would be the same thing all over again. The time-turner could be used to save that child as well. For the first time, Harry understood why time-travel was so closely regulated, why people were forbidden from interfering with events that had already happened.

Tears dripping silently down his face, Harry carried the boy to the coach and lay him down, uncaring of the blood and filth that immediately stained the cover. He knelt on the floor and brushed his hands over the boy's face, closing the glazed grey eyes.

He watched over him for all the long night, unmoving from the place he knelt. Finally, the rays of the rising sun penetrating through the window made him stir.

Moving like an old, old man, he walked slowly to the stone cellar. He stopped in the centre of the room and summoned an iron knife from the kitchen. With a vicious jerk, he slashed his palm open to the bone. Uncaring of the pain, he paced out a circle, letting his blood fall to the ground, slashing at his hands twice more when the flow of blood stopped before the circle of blood was complete.

Mouth tight and with eyes that felt like they were burning, Harry went back to the living room and picked up the dead child. His face almost looked as if he were sleeping.

He laid him down carefully on the floor a few feet away from the outside of the circle and just looked at him for a moment. There was not much blood leaking from him now. Harry didn't know if that was because it had all drained out or if the blood had congealed inside his body.

It did not matter. There was more than enough for what he needed. Jaw clenched, he carefully scooped up some of the blood in his uninjured hand, and started marking a new circle inside the other one.

Finally done, he wiped his hands on his jeans, not even noticing the pain from his right hand.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Gingerly holding his wand, he vanished the dirty clothes form Alain's lifeless body and levitated him over the cauldron before carefully dropping him inside. Almost at once the contents of the cauldron changed into a bubbling, ominous smoke-like mass of deep red, which billowed out of the cauldron until it filled the entire area inside the double circle of blood. It churned and frothed as it twisted itself into a spinning pillar of pure deep red that churned and twisted like some maddened beast.

Harry could feel nothing from where he stood; the circle contained all the raging power released by the near completion of the ritual. Now the only thing left to do was for him to get inside the circle for the last step.

Harry swallowed. To voluntarily walk into what looked like the very mouth of hell filled him with a fear he had seldom felt before. A sense of powerlessness filled him. Harry had always hated the feeling of helplessness that resulted from not being in control. He had had plenty of that with the Dursley's.

He took a deep breath and vanished his own clothing before setting aside his wand. Then he stepped into the swirling vortex. At first nothing seemed to happen, then all at once he felt a crushing force hit his body as all the red whirling mess of power converged on him and sank into his body before starting to reshape it. It almost felt like the effects of Polyjuice, multiplied a half-dozen times, except that Polyjuice had never affected his mind.

Even as his body started reforming he was hit with what felt like the worst Legilimency attack he had ever felt. The hammer blow of force rocked through his shields as if they were nothing, tearing through all the layers of his mind, leaving nothing intact. All the emotions he had locked away, every painful thought and feeling he had been repressing since the start of the whole nightmarish ordeal were ripped free. And that was not all. Tendrils of foreign thought and memories were swept in with the ferocious mental wave that washed through his mind. They were as nothing compared to his own emotions and memories, only remnants, memories of memories, an imprint left by the departed soul and magic that had once inhabited the body now irrevocably melded with his own.

And yet, added to his own newly freed and unstable mess of emotions they were enough to rock the foundations of his sanity. Harry tried to find some way of escaping the chaotic storm of fury and pain that was ripping his mind apart. But every attempt to return the poisonous memories and emotions to their cages failed, the anger fed on itself and seemed to grow, until there was nothing left of his mind but a raw, jagged seething hatred.

The blood-red ferocity of madness threatened to devour every aspect of the Harry he had been as he tried to bring himself under control, until finally he was overwhelmed, and the frantic need to kill, to destroy, to avenge himself against those who wanted to destroy him, transformed him into a hate-maddened animal with only the need to destroy or escape filling every crevice of his mind. With no where left to turn and his mind incapable of thinking, instinct remembered by one part of his body managed to find a way to escape.

His body ripped itself apart in an explosion of terrible pain and reformed itself into a huge black wolf and he howled, all his grief and hatred and broken sanity screamed out of a monstrous mouth to an uncaring world. He turned and raced out of the cellar and into the garden, jumping the gate in one massive leap as he ran towards the open forest.

* * *

Thanks to everyone who read, and everyone who reviewed :)

I am a reader, not a writer, so it's been quite amazing to me that so many people liked this. Thanks again everyone :)


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